


Starlight Brigade: Flowers of Yore

by Bumblesaur



Category: Starlight Brigade - TWRP ft. Dan Avidan (Music Video), TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Bros before they were bros, Character back stories, Enjoy!, Fantasy, Fates align, Friendship, Gen, Heavy-hearted, Humor, Light-Hearted, My interpretation of the SLB universe, Sci-Fi, Science Fiction, Short Stories, Song references, Stars, Tough Times, a mixture of both, chance encounters, cosmos - Freeform, references, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumblesaur/pseuds/Bumblesaur
Summary: Like a bouquet of flowers, it's all tightly woven together. Blooms of the past—how beautiful you've become.A short collection of five stories centered around the Brigade and its members, both past and present. Each tale is tailored around a moment in that character's life, be it a fond memory or a difficult echo that lingers in their hearts.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 4





	1. Flowers of Yore: Title Page

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of short stories that revolve around my interpretation of the Starlight Brigade universe. I had fun writing these, and I do hope you'll have fun reading them. As always, any comments or constructive criticism is welcomed! I love hearing your honest thoughts :^)
> 
> **NOTE** : It is _highly_ recommended that you read my completed story before delving into this short collection, as this series contains spoilers of major plot points from that work. Plus, these will make much more sense if you've already read the work before it. You can find the first part of the series here:
> 
>   
>  [ The Stars are in his Eyes ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139636/chapters/58123336)   
> 
> 
> It's a novel length story full of unexpected twists, turns, and harrowing adventures to keep you on the edge of your seat; nothing but a good ol' fashioned space adventure! Not only that, but it features a stunning collection of illustration by the wonderful **[Nexeliam!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nexeliam/pseuds/Nexeliam)** They're also the one who has worked on the French translation as well. 
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy! :^)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little drawing I did in preparation for this mini-series; a fun little addition. The next chapters are the written works :^)

**• • • • •**

Starlight Brigade: Flowers of Yore

**• • • • •**


	2. Indigo Blight

**• • •**

He heard them come in—that damned sympathy of footsteps.

The same ones that charged through the door with their snow-stained boots, dragging the frigid substance through his pitifully chilled home. The way the men sighed was nightmarish to endure, curling their rancid breath through the air while they claimed their monthly prize. He could already imagine their greedy paws snatching up what little he and his mother had to their names.

He could hear it all, but he never saw any of it.

Wracked with tiny tremors, all he could do was wait for them to leave while he cowered in the dusty cupboard. The child covered his face, his breathing strained and thin as he willed himself to remain undetected for a little longer. They never liked his mother to begin with—they disliked him ever more. 

Bellowing growls shook the entire house, causing a panicked yowl to nearly escape the child’s thundering chest. Thankfully, he managed to swallow it before the men could hear him. Whiskers quivering and hackles raised, he listened to that dreadful voice, its barking tone lingering in the frosty air.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,'' chuckled the man, his words just as cold as the world outside. “Ya never disappoint, my dear. Always on time with yer generous donations—how kind ya’ve been to me an’ my crew! Such a shame the prices had ta go up this year, but what can ya do? Jus’ the way business goes!” A few malicious cackles followed the cruel joke. 

Another voice broke through the laughter, her tone frighteningly sharp against the situation she found herself in. The boy’s heart leapt into his throat. “Aye, that joke was funny the first five times ya told it.” The woman held no humour to her words, only a growing impatience. “Now, get out. I’ve paid my bills for the month. Go hassle some other resident in town.”

The air became hostile, a displeased murmur wrapping around the room like a suffocating knot. The tension coiled around the boy’s neck, weaving its way through his fur with a devastating tug. With bated breath, he awaited the verdict for his mother’s terse tone. 

If only he could be more like her; her courage was impossible to match. 

A heavy fist came down on a surface, sending showers of glass to the ground—he must have hit the table. The boy could hear the sound of food splattering to the floor and mixing in with the debris of their dishes. They didn’t have many plates left to spare. 

“Whoops, looks like ya’ve got ta be more careful, darlin’,” the man snarled. “Such a clumsy lil’ thing y’are. It must’ve taken ya hours ta prepare that meal.” Food squelched unpleasantly beneath a pair of boots. “Guess I’ll leave ya ta clean up this mess, eh? Tsk, good fer nothin’ Grymalkin is what y’are. The lot of ya.” A disgusting hack infiltrated the man’s throat, followed by a sickening splat. “We’re done here. Let’s go, boys.”

With merciful swiftness, the group of men shuffled out of the house, but not before leaving a few parting memories. The shriek of claws grazing the walls, the lolling tongues that rolled in time with their laughter, and the boisterous howls that nearly deafened the two inhabitants, filling their ears with a fierce ringing. It was torturous, but they just had to endure it a little longer. Soon, they could rest easy for another month.

“Oh, an’ another thing—”

The boy choked on the threatening aura. He could hear his own heartbeat drumming a hole through his strangled chest. He could also hear his mother’s heart stop.

“Remember our deal, darlin’. Ya wouldn’t want that lil’ cur of yers payin’ the price. If I ever catch ya pullin’ shit like that again, he’s as good as dead.” With that, the door slammed shut, sending a nearby vase shattering to the ground below.

The house was deathly quiet after that. The boy counted in his head, using his quivering paws to keep track of the pace. When a minute had passed, he knew it was safe to come out. He wobbled to his knees, brushing off a layer of dust from his fur-lined jacket. He let out an unsteady puff of air and pushed his way out of the cupboard, running into the arms of his beloved mother. 

“Ma!” he exclaimed, rubbing his muzzle into her shoulder. There were no tears this time; he had gotten better at hiding them. Instead, he simply wished to rid himself of his terrible shudders, an ailment that was quickly remedied when his mother embraced him fully. 

“It’s alright, love. They’re gone now. They can’t hurt us anymore, okay?” Then, she remembered the man’s parting words. She grimaced, her fangs poking through her ashy grey muzzle. Her velvety tail flicked nervously across the ground, unconsciously wrapping around her son’s tiny form. As she spoke, her pointed ears pressed themselves to her head, her nervousness betraying her soft words. “It’s all goin’ to be fine, Jàzzlan. I promise.”

Jàzzlan shook his head, his ears angled tightly towards the ground. “Yer lyin’! Ya’ve been sayin' that for years and nothin’ has changed! They’re still here, threatenin’ us and takin’ all yer money. It’s not right! I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to leave!”

“Love, ya know we can’t just leave this town. It’s not safe to venture past the mountains, especially when yer so young. Ya haven’t even gotten yer mane yet.” 

“I don’t care! They’ve been nothin’ but cruel to us! They call us names and treat us like trash,” he growled wretchedly, curling his fists into a tight ball. Within his enclosed palms, he could feel the uncomfortable prick of his claws. “Damned bandits. They’re all dogs, the lot of ‘em!”

“Jàzzlan, that’s enough.” His mother shushed him with a stern tone, chastising his outburst. “Ya can’t go around callin’ them that. It’s not very kind.”

“Kind?" he hissed incrediously. "What do they know about kindness?! They say those awful things to us all the time. Dirty cats, mewlin’ kittens, disgustin’ Grymalkins—they’re just a bunch of lowly mutts. I hate them! One of these days, I’ll kill each and every one of those sickenin’ bandits!”

“Enough!” His mother wrapped him tightly in her arms. “Ya can’t say those kinds of things. Thinkin’ like that makes ya the same as them—nothin’ but despicable rouges. Criminals, delinquents; unruly hounds. Do ya really want to be seen as one of ‘em?”

A growl made its way through Jàzzlan’s throat, sounding somewhere between a doggish snarl and a high-pitched yowl.

“No,” he whispered. He slowly unclenched his fists, wincing at the throbbing pains he left in his wake. “I don’t wanna be like them. Bandits are good for nothin’ lowlifes. I’m not like them at all.” He looked to the side and cast his gaze downwards, mumbling to himself quietly. “I’m not like them . . . I swear.”

The woman glanced knowingly at her son, her amber eyes softening when she beheld her precious child. She loosened her grip and slowly brought her paws to her son’s, lightly tracing a path over his striking navy fur. It was much courser than her own, lacking the same downy sheen she possessed. It was roguish—spiked and doggish. 

“I know, darlin’. Yer not like ‘em at all.” She managed a small laugh. “For starters, yer much more handsome than those whelps could ever dream of bein’. On top of that, ya don’t have that persistent wet dog smell attached to ya. Those mutts send the whole town reelin’ whenever they show their stupid heads!”

Upon hearing his mother’s reassurance, Jàzzlan couldn’t help but blush beneath her fond tone.

Finding humour in his embarrassment, the doting mother continued. 

“And just look at yer eyes—a treasure trove of gold! Truly every pirate’s dream! Why, I bet they’d spend years searchin’ the Seven Galaxseas and not even come close to a sight so magnificent. Even a thousand treasure hauls couldn't compare to yer stunnin’ gaze.” 

This got his attention immediately. “Ya really think they’d come across that much treasure?!”

His mother smiled. “Of course! See, pirates are said to have a knack at findin’ all sorts of treasures and gettin’ into crazy adventures along the way. They have the bravest hearts and the mightiest of courage. They laugh in the face of their enemies. After all, nothin’ can beat a pirate’s wit and tenacity!” She laughed heartily, lightly nudging her son towards his room. “Now, how about ya fetch yer book, hm? I’d love to hear a story while I go and clean up.”

Nodding eagerly, Jàzzlan rushed to his room and began his frantic search for his favourite book. A tale of glory and adventure, of riches and wealth, of hardships and escape. The kings of space, the navigators of the cosmic tides, the conquerors of uncharted realms—the spectacular beings known as pirates. 

Gripping the worn book in his palms, Jàzzlan ran to his mother just like he promised, sitting off to the side and excitedly scanning the torn pages for his favourite part. It wasn’t difficult to find, the yellowed paper protruding from the book with its noticeable creases. 

“I like this part the most!” he giggled. Having forgotten his woes and the bandits entirely, he began reciting the story with a strong, confident voice. He tried his best to sound intimidating, but his young, squeaky meows prevented him from embodying the true nature of the pirates he idolized. No matter how gravelled he made his voice, he could never compare to the rough snarks of a pirate’s tone.

His mother smiled when she heard his enthusiastic yowls, grinning through the discomfort of picking shards from their soiled food. Judging by the state it was in, they’d probably have to forego dinner for the night. It was such a shame. They had already skipped last night’s as well. 

Oblivious to his rumbling stomach, Jàzzlan continued to recite the story, his heart beating in time with the courageous fires of a pirate’s soul. To be a pirate was to laugh at the world and claim it as your own. No more cowering below an intimidating force—pirates were their own bosses. They were in charge of their lives, never stooping to another being’s will ever again. To be a pirate was to be powerful.

To be a pirate was to taste the sweetness of freedom

“Ma?" he asked. "Do ya think I could be a pirate one day?”

His mother paused for a moment, then resumed sweeping food into a dustpan. “Well, I don’t know. Would ya be a good pirate, or a bad one?”

“There are bad ones?”

“Mmm, there are. Those are the kinds that steal for fun and bully defenseless beings for a few laughs. They can also be mean, takin’ pleasure in scarin’ poor folks who don’t deserve it.” She stiffened and bit her lower lip. Her voice became a hushed whisper. “They also kill for no good reason, endin’ lives like they have a right. Those kinds of pirates are horrible. They’re revoltin’, Jàzzlan. Disgustin’ creatures that deserve no forgiveness.” 

Upon hearing this, Jàzzlan looked down at his book with a somber glance. He ran his fingers over a dusty page, tracing the faint outline of a faded illustration. He could see their silhouette; they looked proud, their chest puffed out with a staggering confidence as they waived their weapon high to the skies. 

“But . . . what if I choose to be a good one? One who never hurts another bein’. One that fights for good causes and protects the ones they love! One that only steals when it’s necessary!”

His mother stifled a laugh, shaking her head at her son’s absurd logic. “Well, I’d prefer if ya didn’t steal at all.”

“Okay, then I’ll only go on adventures. I’ll soar to distant lands, find new realms and search for their untouched treasures! Doesn’t that sound good, Ma?”

“Hmm, it does sound pretty interestin’,” she mused. “And when do ya plan to go? Not right now, I hope. I’d be sad if ya left me all alone.”

Although her words were light and playful, her son took them harshly. His eyes went as large as the moons of their planet, his mouth agape in shock. His whiskers trembled as he hastily explained himself, fearing he had upset her.

“N-no! I wouldn’t leave ya right now! When I’m older, I’ll find a way to get us outta here. When I get my own ship, I’ll take us away from this place. Away from those bandits and their fines. Then we’ll discover troves of treasure, enough to make us rich! We can be pirates, just the two of us. Together, we can claim all the glories of the cosmos!”

His mother finished sweeping the floor and swiftly disposed of their ruined dinner. A heavy sigh flowed from her chest, followed by a withered smile. She kneeled beside her son and ran her paws across his fuzzy head, sweeping her fingers behind his ears and scratching them gently; she placed a kiss atop his forehead and pressed her nose into his fur, bringing him close to her chest. 

Her sweet child. Such an imagination he possessed. 

“I hope our first destination will be warm. Yer ol’ Ma is sick and tired of the cold weather. I’d love to feel the heat of the sun again.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, picking up the scent of winter’s staleness on her child’s pelt. He wasn’t bothered by the cold like her. He was better suited for their harsh climate. 

Jàzzlan wiggled uncomfortably in his mother’s grasp, his voice shrill with a childish whine. “Ma, yer squishin’ me!”

“Stop bein’ so squishable then.”

“Ma! Stop treatin’ me like a little kit! Yer embarrassin’ me!” True to his words, the tops of his navy ears began to burn a vibrant crimson. His muzzle was speckled with rosy smudges; his whiskers twitched in a mortified rhythm. “Yer too close!”

His mother let out a hearty laugh, bringing her son even closer to her body. The more he struggled, the more she laughed, sputtering a few chuckled purrs in light of his irritation. He demanded to be released, but his words failed to persuade her. If anything, she held on tighter, refusing to let him go until he promised to take her somewhere warm the moment they found a way off their planet. 

Jàzzlan quickly complied, promising to bring her to the warmest beach he could find, just like the ones he had seen in their books. Amidst ruffled fur and quiet curses, he promised golden sands and emerald palms, their chosen trove surrounded by sapphire waters for them to enjoy. That would be their first treasure together. 

All they had to do was wait a little longer.

**• • •**

The blustering winds had gotten worse, their currents sharp and biting as they whipped past Jàzzlan’s form, peppering his jacket with a flurry of white particles. He huffed, swiping his paw across his dribbling nose. He sniffed once, then sighed with practiced repetition. An uncomfortable tug called for his attention, prompting him to stare at his frigid whiskers.

Frozen in place. Yet again. 

It was annoying, but doable nonetheless. Thankfully, he wasn’t too affected by the cold. If anything, he felt a little warm in his fur-lined jacket. He could feel a sweat begin to break across his body, the pesky heat contained within his unnecessary coverings. Unlike his mother, he wasn’t bothered by the chill of their planet—at the thought of this, Jàzzlan grimaced in disgust. 

Even in his element, he was painfully out of it. 

He rolled his eyes and continued trudging through the snowy mountain path, his current destination the only thing keeping his patience intact. After years of saving up whatever coin he could manage, he was finally able to make the trip to the town’s market, breaking away from the role of an onlooker and becoming a valid customer. He had been eying it ever since he was a kit holding onto his mother’s hand in the busy town square, promising to fulfil his silent vow when he was older. 

After all these years, he had finally done it. Sure, it was difficult at times, but he had managed to make his wish come true. His careful hoarding of coins and bartering material had paid off. Through sly persuasions, quick tongued wit, and chilling perseverance, he had made his dream a reality:

Nestled in his palms lay a gift for his mother. 

Jàzzlan had heard the trader talk to multiple customers, humming and hawing about the beauty of his exotic treasures. No matter the day, no matter the weather, the man still boasted of his rare finds. Rubies from sandy realms, garnets from the Cretician nova mountains, and turquoise from far-off asteroid belts, their luminance speckling the galaxy like pale blue dots. The trader had endless marvels for the townsfolk to enjoy—so long as they had the cash to back up their interests. 

When he inquired about the jewel’s price, Jàzzlan remembered nearly fainting on the spot. As a kit, he couldn’t dream of paying such a hefty fine, not when the bandits still ruled over their town. Every month, they came like a glutinous plague, hounding the town for their scheduled fees. Many were too frightened to protest, finding no better solution than to give them what they wanted in exchange for another month of peace and quiet. Those who were well off had nothing to fear. Those who were poor feared for their lives—outcasts like him and his mother. 

While the inhabitants were pleasant enough, they were reluctant to mingle with his kind. Out of all the different species that resided on the snowy peaks, it was Jàzzlan and his mother who were the inferior breed, deemed so by the bandits that rule this decrepit land. 

His mother was met with rude remarks and degrading language, a punishment brought on by her status as an unacclimatized species. The bandits viewed her as nothing more than a brainless fool, a Grymalkin who picked an element that was not her own. She didn’t belong here, and they made sure to remind her of that every time they laid their doggish eyes on her. To live in a place she would eventually call her grave—how stupid could she be? There was nothing left for her here; her reason had long since left this world.

And yet she couldn’t leave. Not when she had her son to look after.

Whenever he thought about her reasons, Jàzzlan couldn’t help but snarl to himself, a terrible guilt twisting in his stomach.

Having agreed to leave her realm for her partner’s sake, she unknowingly stranded herself on a planet that was her polar opposite. Void of warmth, clear skies, and mild seasons, she had promised herself to the one she loved, even going as far as to leave her comforts behind for the sake of a romantic bond. 

The trivial nature of romance . . . Jàzzlan couldn’t fathom such an absurd concept. 

His parents were two vastly different beings, and yet they cared for each other, their connection eventually leading to the creation of their child, the only thing that remained after his father’s passing. His mother never liked to talk about it. She would go quiet, refusing to answer any of Jàzzlan’s questions surrounding this faceless being. All she would say was that he took after his father. Unfortunately, the bandits disagreed. 

To them, he was nothing more than a lowly cur. 

A damned hybrid, a putrid mixture of a failed species, a sorry excuse for a hound; the blood was all wrong. It was tainted by Grymalkin scum, cursed by the cat’s despicable breed. Whenever they laid eyes on his navy pelt, they’d recoil in disgust, spitting at the thought of his false blood. He wasn’t one of them. Thankfully, he never would be.

He rejected their vile nature, refusing to acknowledge the other-half of his existence. He wore his Grymalkin heritage with pride, doing everything in his power to make it known. Now that he was older, he had begun to grow into his mane—a sign of maturity to his kind. It framed his face quite well, its darker hue cradling his pronounced muzzle and sharp jawline. Although it was currently at adolescence length, it was still an impressive sight to see. Jàzzlan made it his duty to upkeep his appearance, refusing to bend to the insults of those loathsome thugs. With age came new confidence, courage and bravery. To say he was intimidating was an understatement; he was gloriously daunting. 

Jàzzlan kept this in mind as he made his way up the mountain, ignoring the sideways glances he gained from the mingling bandits. Like always, they were stationed at whatever house they saw fit, pestering the neighbours for any goods they desired. Sometimes it was money, other times it was the uncomfortable need for a less than mutual company. They’d mingle in the streets, taking shelter wherever they pleased and making a terrible ruckus for their own amusement. So long as the townsfolk did as they were told, no harm would come to them. 

His homeland had one motto, both for the vicious weather and the brutish bandits that ruled over their lives. They simply had to endure it; endure the pain, the suffering, and the inescapable chill that had fallen upon their town. No one could fight a raging blizzard. All they could do was hunker down and wait for it to pass. 

“Bah, what a bunch of bullshit,” Jàzzlan mumbled to himself, hissing steam through his fangs. His patience had run out—his tolerance was beginning to thin. He was restless, itching to say goodbye to this frozen hellhole. Then, he managed a small smirk. If he played his cards right, they wouldn’t have to endure this life much longer. 

He gripped his mother’s gift tightly in his palm, rolling the precious gem between his fingers. The trader told him it was called tourmaline, a rare gem mined from a far-off realm, often residing in saharan climates. The feline squeezed the stone tighter, feeling the warmth of its fabled heat sizzle in his paws. He had never experienced a world like that, but his mother had in her past. 

Soon, she would see her home again, this frozen world deemed nothing more than a far-off nightmare.

This thought brought renewed vigor to Jàzzlan’s step, his slow trudge quickly picking up pace as he jumped through the snowy mounds, kicking up a miniature blizzard between each impact. He pocketed his gem with a smile, feeling unimaginable glee flicker within his chest. He swelled with pride, unable to hide his happiness from curious onlookers. All his risks had finally paid off—there was hope for him and his mother. Today, he would bring her a gift that was years in the making. Tomorrow, the gift of a lifetime. 

Tomorrow was the day they’d break free from the bandits’ grasp. No more bending to their will or paying hefty fines. No more harsh insults and undeserved abuse. No more pain, no more suffering; no more snowy peaks and desolate lands. Tomorrow, they were going to be free. 

Panting and out of breath, Jàzzlan approached his household with a thundering heart, its rhythm sent into a chaotic tempo as excitement coursed through his veins. He could already imagine her smile, her face crinkling with delight at the gift he had bought for her. Her facial markings would twist and curl, adding even more beauty to his mother’s elegance. She deserved every ounce of happiness he could supply. She had endured too much for his sake already, willingly throwing away seventeen years of her life to keep him safe. To him, there wasn’t a being more incredible than his own mother. She was everything he strived to be.

She was his whole world, the only thing he had ever devoted himself towards. She was the reason he kept on fighting, the reason he wanted to have a better future for the two of them. She was the reason for his joy—

Now, she was the reason for his indescribable anguish.

When Jàzzlan opened the door, he had expected to see his mother’s loving smile, not her quivering form thrown to the ground, wheezing and fending for her life. 

Jàzzlan pushed through the door in an instant. “Ma!” he cried, rushing towards her without a second thought. All he saw was her hunched form beside the table, oblivious to the seething rage within her amber gaze. 

Upon hearing her son’s panicked yowls, she looked up with wide eyes, parting her mouth in a choked plea. “Jàzzlan, don’t! Get out of here now or—”

Without warning, Jàzzlan’s world was sent into a dizzying spiral. An unseen force knocked into his stomach and sent him to the ground, kicking him before he had a chance to regain his breath. He gasped for air, reeling from the lack of oxygen and the terrible nausea that filled his bruising centre. He managed a pitiful cough, still trying to recover from his disoriented state. 

His mother yowled in the distance, only to be cut off by a barking tone. “Aye, enough outta ya, damned Grymalkin. He got what he deserved. Who does he think he is bargain’ in on our lil’ meetin’ without so much as an invitation, ha? Ya’ve got some nerve, cur.” 

Jàzzlan’s entire body froze at the sound of the familiar voice. He sputtered something incoherent and dared to look up, locking eyes with the doggish bandit. It wasn’t just any old bandit, it was the leader. That damned shit-faced hound. 

“What’s with that scowl, lil’ kit? Such a touchy breed, y’are. I haven’t even laid a finger on that ma of yers.” The bandit casually walked towards his mother, hovering over her heaving form. “Hey, I ain’t lying one bit. Not even a single digit, see?” He uncurled his paws, splaying them out in the open air. Then, he grinned wickedly, curling his palm into a tight fist and bludgeoning it across his mother’s back. She let out a dreadful screech, recoiling from the impact. “Keh! See? I ain’t no liar. Knuckles don’t count, ya dumbass!”

The whole world was doused in a shade of red, sending Jàzzlan’s fur spiking in all different directions. He grit his fangs and snarled at the hound, rising to his feet with an irate caterwaul. “Don’t ya dare touch my ma like that! Ya hear me?! Yer’e gonna pay for that, ya miserable creep!” 

A terrible cackle rose from the bandit. “Am I now? Sorry ta burst yer bubble, cur, but that ain’t gonna happen.”

The hound was on him in an instant, yanking him by the back of his scruff and grabbing fistfuls of his mane. Jàzzlan fought in his grasp, hissing and cursing with all his might. Unfortunately, the hound possessed much more strength than him, taking advantage of his brutish power to lug him around like a lightweight rag. 

Paying no heed to the struggling teen, the bandit pushed him against the kitchen sink, landing a clean blow across his muzzle. Jàzzlan flinched from the pain, sniffing back a stream of ruby liquid.

The sight of blood encouraged a gleeful chuckle from the bandit. “Well, _Me-ouch!_ That looks like it’ll leave quite a mark. If y’ask me, it’s a huge improvement ta that ugly maw of yers.” Jàzzlan tried to dig his claws into the bandit’s arm, only to find they couldn't penetrate his thick coat. “Tsk, what a useless creature ya turned out ta be. Ya may have our blood in yer veins, but yer nothin’ more than a failure of a species. Weak, dull, an’ incredibly worthless. A waste of space is what y’are! Nothin’ but watered-down filth!”

The bandit grabbed Jàzzlan by his throat and dug his claws into his neck. The fine points managed to break through the teen’s course mane, leaving seeping indents in their wake. Each passing second led him closer to the edge of the sink, his entire form shaking from his efforts to regain control. He flicked his gaze to the side, watching their reflections in the waters of the basin. His golden eyes went wide with horror.

“Aye, y’ave been a naughty lil’ thing, haven’t ya, cur? Think ya can get away with bringin’ all that filth into my town, eh? Let’s see if this’ll cleanse ya of that Grymalkin dirt!” The bandit pushed him downwards, forcing his entire muzzle into the basin. 

Jàzzlan lashed out, kicking and screaming in an attempt to escape the watery prison. His lungs ached for air, his chest throbbed painfully from the abuse. Without a clear view of his surroundings, he couldn’t find a point to strike his attacker, blindly flinging his claws around the rim of the sink. He screamed for it to end, begging for a chance to breathe again. He cried out, his terrified yowls muffled by the flurry of bubbles he produced. After a few moments, the bubbles began to lessen in time with his fading consciousness, his mind becoming entangled by sluggish suffocation. 

Just when he was ready to accept the cruel embrace of death, he was yanked from the sink and thrown to the side, reduced to a wheezing puddle on the ground. Jàzzlan sucked in as much air as he could, heaving between soggy breaths and liquid sobs. He coughed wretchedly, nearly vomiting from the shock. No matter how much he inhaled, he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. His vision became a black tunnel, his chest rocked him with its tumultuous beat; he couldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t stop crying.

“Just look at ya,” snarled the bandit, kicking the teen with the side of his boot. “Yer pathetic. Did ya really think ya could pull all that shit without me noticin’? Ya think I’m stupid? I’ve seen ya perusin’ ‘round the town, thinkin’ yer tough because of that gaudy eyesore ‘round yer neck. Think yer better than us, eh? Just ‘cause of some extra fur ‘round yer face? Revoltin’ is what y’are.”

The bandit shoved his way into Jàzzlan’s face, swiftly sneaking his paws into the teen’s coat jacket. Although he was nearly incoherent, he had enough wits about himself to understand what was going on. He let out a weak cry, reaching for the rose coloured gem—his arm was slapped away, leaving a dull ache across his skin. 

“T-that’s mine! Ya can’t have it!”

“What, this ol’ thing?” The bandit pinched the gem between his claws, observing the pristine jewel with a bored expression. “Damn, what a dull rock ya picked up, lil’ kit. Is this what y’ave been savin’ up fer all this time? A glorified pink pebble?”

“H-how did you—”

“Please, I ain’t stupid. I’ve known about yer lil’ plan fer years now. Yer just like that rotten ma of yers, stashin’ away yer coins in hopes of usin’ it fer other things. Tsk, must run in that breed of yers—sly cur.” He raised the gem up to the light, bringing out the speckled shine of the rare mineral. “Instead of punishin’ ya, I decided ta let ya have yer fun fer a while. Y’know, give ya some hope and whatnot. It’s no fun ta break ya in one day. Years worth of dread is much more appealin’ ta me.

“Yer ma has already tested my patience before. She was tryin’ ta save up fer her own ship a while back, one that was bein’ marketed from right under our noses. Even when I caught her, I was worried she’d try it again in the future. Luckily, she’s easy ta persuade when given a price she can’t go against.” The bandit smirked wickedly, twirling the gem with his dexterous fingers. “If yer ma wasn’t worried about us causin’ ya harm, she coulda been off this mountain years ago. Yer the reason she’s still here, kit. If I were in her boots, I woulda left ya ta rot here! Nothin’ good will ever come outta yer worthless existence.”

He threw the gem to the ground and pushed it in front of Jàzzlan, stomping his foot between him and the rosy jewel. “Wanna see what yer hard work has brought ya? A load of shit, that’s what!” The hound raised his boot and sent it down with a terrifying force. Again and again, he stomped on the gem, his steel rimmed boots cutting into the rock with ease.

Jàzzlan could only watch, still shaken up by his near-death experience. “Stop it!” he yelled. “Stop it, now! Ya can’t do this! That’s not yers; it’s mine! It’s—just stop already!” 

Deaf to his broken pleas, the bandit continued smashing his boot into the jewel, wielding the same strength as a forger's hammer. With one last contemptuous stomp, he finally relented, stepping away from the broken shards on the floor. He sniffed triumphantly and hacked a wad of spit with the intent of soiling the gem. Thankfully, it missed its target, but just barely. 

What was left was hardly salvageable.

The beautiful gem Jàzzlan had worked so hard for was nothing more than a pile of shards, shattered into horribly mangled shapes. He slowly edged towards the broken remains, shovelling the bits into his quivering palms. He looked them over, finding no resemblance to the gem he had purchased for his beloved mother. His bottom lip began to tremble, followed by the uncomfortable sting of tears cascading down his cheeks. He held the shards close to his chest, his head hung low while he let out a mournful sob. 

After all those years of working towards this one gift, it was taken from him in a single night. His mother never had the chance to hold it, to feel the connection it had with her homeland. All he wanted to see was her smile—he just wanted them to finally be happy. 

Why couldn’t they have this one thing?

“Well, I ain’t one ta overstay my welcome. I’ll be outta yer mane once I finish what I came here ta do.” 

Jàzzlan didn’t understand what he was referring to, but the sharp gasp of his mother was enough to catch his attention. His eyes narrowed to a furious point when he saw the hound approach the trembling woman. “The hell do ya think yer doin’, mutt?!”

The bandit scoffed, choosing to ignore the tasteless remark. “I didn’t come here fer ya, lil’ cur. Ya were just an unplanned element ta my original task. Nah, I came here fer that ma of yers. I was thinkin’ of usin’ her as an example fer what happens when ya go sneakin’ under my nose.” 

Jàzzlan’s heart stopped. He looked between his mother and the towering hound, feeling all the blood drain from his face. “No . . . . No, no, please! Ya can’t! She didn’t do anythin’! I was the one who saved up the money, not her! She has nothin’ to do with this, ya damned dog! It’s me who deserves it! It’s me!”

“I know. Why do ya think I’m goin’ fer her?” The bandit swiftly reached for his mother’s neck, lifting her struggling form into the air with ease. “Maybe next time ya won’t think of goin’ against me, cur. ‘Cause in the future, this’ll be yer fate.”

The woman struggled to breathe, her grey paws helplessly grabbing at her attacker’s powerful grip. She let her eyes wander towards her child, mouthing out a silent plea for him to understand. She wanted him to run, to flee this awful place and never look back. Jàzzlan shook his head, fighting back the panic within his chest.

He couldn’t leave her to die, not like this. He had caused this to happen—she didn’t deserve any of it! All he wanted was to make her happy, to bring her back to the realm she called her home. She wasn’t supposed to die here. 

She couldn’t. 

She _wouldn’t._

A vicious howl tore through Jàzzlan’s aching chest, sending him in the direction of the wicked rouge. The dog looked back in surprise, barking out a slew of terrible curses when a pair of claws sliced across his backside. Distracted by the attack, he let go of the woman’s throat and dropped her limp form, focusing all his attention on the caterwauling creature that clung to his back.

Jàzzlan fell into a maddened trance. His hackles were raised, his tail lashed through the air furiously; his fangs were bared in a drooling craze. He let out a beastial screech and dug his claws into the bandit’s warm flesh, breaking through his coarse fur with a delightful sinking sensation. The culprit howled a doggish song, throwing himself to the ground and rolling the two of them into a chaotic spiral. 

The bandit reared up and clasped his paws around Jàzzlan’s wrists, pinning them to the ground with a crushing force. He began squeezing with all his might, hoping to hear the delicious crack of a bone. While not a crack, something definitely began to splinter beneath the skin, sending Jàzzlan into a series of tortured convulsions. 

“Ha! Think ya can beat me, eh? Think again, cur! I’ll have both yers heads fer this!” The hound opened his maw and began panting from his animalistic delights, his tongue lolling to the side while he indulged in his savage pleasures. Then, he snapped his fangs together and dove for Jàzzlan’s face, narrowly missing the side of his cheek. Instead, he managed to hook his canines on a part of the teen’s ear, pulling back and separating a portion of the skin. 

Jàzzlan screamed in anguish, shaking his head in an attempt to block out the pain. The more he moved, the farther the blood sprayed. It speckled the floor and peppered his fur with scarlet spots, showing no signs of stopping its steady flow. 

“Whoops, my bad, lil’ kit. That looks like a nasty injury ya got there! Keh! _Me-ouch is right!_ ” The bandit snarled at the teen beneath him, reeling back in preparation for another assault. “Fight all ya want, kit. Both of y’are as good as dead! Once yer outta the picture, I’ll move on ta that filthy Grymalkin ma of yers! Good fer nothin’ blood breeder!” 

At that moment, something snapped within Jàzzlan. He couldn’t think, nor could he control the crawling itch that festered in his mind, the deafening howl taking command of his physical responses. He had no words for it. It failed to move across his tongue, becoming inarticulate for the crazed feline. 

There was no way to describe how frightfully primal his urges became.

Jàzzlan sent all his strength into his arms, summoning a staggering amount of power into a single action. He wrenched his wrists away from the bandit’s grasp, grabbing hold of his arms and twisting them at an unnatural angle—a pleasant crackle filled the house, snapping in time with each fractured bone. The bandit yelped in anguish, jumping back from the teen and cradling his arm, sputtering at the hideous bend his limb had developed. It hung uselessly by his chest, twitching like a dying animal. 

By no means was Jàzzlan close to being done.

He leapt towards his attacker and threw him to the ground, sinking his claws into his flesh without an ounce of mercy. He burrowed into the warmth of the hound’s skin, happily pulling out a handful of bloodied ribbons. The bandit screamed—Jàzzlan didn’t care. He wanted this creature to suffer. He wanted him to pay for all the pain he had caused his mother. 

He’d make him suffer a pain worse than death.

“ ‘Weak little Grymalkin, filthy cur’ . . . what am I to ya now? Am I still a worthless breed? A bastard among yer kind?! Answer me, mutt! What am I?!”

The bandit bared his teeth and glowered at the feline. “Keh, yer nothin’! Ya hear me?! Damned brat—yer filthy, tainted by two breeds! Hybrids like ya have no place in the world. Yer just some unwanted abomination; an inferior cur!”

Jàzzlan grinned wildly, his madness fuelled by the hound’s hideous words. “I’ll send yer sorry hide to Hell!”

The assault continued for several minutes, each passing moment draining the bandit of his energy and life. He no longer had the strength to fight, nor could he scream louder than a deranged whisper. His fur was tinged with blood, his eyes had begun to roll into his head, his breath was laboured; it bubbled with the viscosity of scarlet tang. Jàzzlan thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. 

The weight of bodily debris clung to the teen’s claws, crusting at the tips with a ruby sheen. He dragged his eyes across his dirty palms, his blurred vision unable to focus on his quivering hands. He felt his index finger twitch and stiffen—the next few moments were mercifully dark. 

Panting heavily, Jàzzlan wiped the fevered drool from his maw, surprised to find a red stain streak across his fur. He felt his muzzle with his sticky paws, unable to find any sort of damage. He clacked his fangs together, feeling the tickle of torn fur between his gums. Slowly, he dragged his tongue across his teeth, a wave of nausea nearly sending him to his knees.

When had he used his fangs?

He looked down at his paws and recoiled at the hideous sight. The metallic scent assaulted his senses, strangling his lungs with its thick substance. His claws were cracked and dirty, their points clogged with the remains of the bandit. Fighting back his hysterics, Jàzzlan dared to look at the man beneath him—his golden eyes filled with disgusted tears. He trailed his vision over the gash beneath the bandit's throat.

When had he carved such a devastating mark?

Jàzzlan scrambled off the rapidly cooling body, trembling in fear. He cradled his head and shook it back and forth, refusing to acknowledge what he had done. The bitter tang of the enemy’s blood lingered on his tongue, causing him to drool and salivate uncontrollably. He heaved and choked on his sour breath, fighting back the urge to vomit. 

He wasn’t like them. He promised to never be like them. He wasn’t a hound—he couldn’t be. He wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t a hound.

He proved to be worse.

Jàzzlan huddled into himself and began to cry, numb to the pain that riddled his torn body. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. His mother was supposed to be smiling, holding the beautiful treasure he had worked so hard to give her. Now, there was nothing he could do for her, nothing but—

He stifled a small gasp. There was still time. He could still fulfil his final promise to her. 

He dared to look across the room, his exhausted eyes landing on the shivering form of his poor mother. Thankfully, she wasn’t injured too much, save for the shallow cuts that nestled below her grey pelt. She sat upright, eyeing the lifeless body with vacant eyes. She seemed too shocked to speak, let alone acknowledge her soft spoken son. 

With great care, he addressed his mother, trying to control his shaky voice. Unfortunately for him, it was impossible to regain his previous cadence—he was wrought with egregious guilt for what he had done. “Ma . . . I want ya to listen to me.” There was no response from his mother. Jàzzlan tried again. “Please, ma. Listen to me. I need ya to do somethin’ for me. It’s . . . I’m gettin’ ya off this planet, okay?”

This got her attention. Her ears flicked upwards at the mention of leaving the mountain. She looked over at her son with blank eyes, lacking any sort of gratitude for the beast in front of her. Jàzzlan grimaced at the cold reaction.

“I’ve been workin’ on this plan for a few years now. I’ve been savin’ up my cash, workin’ in the background, makin’ connections and gatherin’ information about the outside world. A few of the traders in town—they get their goods through outside shipments. They rarely stock up on the mountains, but I know when their next visit will be. It’s tomorrow mornin’, ma. They’re comin’ tomorrow! Ya can go to their ship and hitch a ride to freedom. Ya can finally leave this awful place!”

His mother's gaze surveyed the room, her focus slow and sluggish; she seemed stuck in a trance, oblivious to the world around her. When she noticed the body by the table, she froze, her hackles spiking in response. 

“Ma, i-it’s not—”

“Ya killed him, Jàzzlan. Ya killed a livin’ bein’, she stuttered quietly, her words low and babbled. 

Jàzzlan winced. He fought back his rising panic, desperately trying to explain himself to his fragile mother. “I-I didn’t mean to! I just—he was gonna kill ya, ma! I couldn’t let him do it! The thought of losin’ ya, I can’t—!”

“Ya promised me. Ya said ya’d never become like them. I can’t believe ya just—” She put her paw in front of her face, letting her tears roll down her twisted visage. “To kill another bein’ is . . .”

“Please, ma. No . . . please don’t—”

“It’s _unforgivable._ ”

Her statement pierced his heart like a burning dagger, slicing him from the inside out. Her tone was dead, void of its former compassion. The way she addressed him was cruel, lacking an ounce of familiarity. 

Jàzzlan grew desperate, shifting his words into a helpless plea. “Ma, please! I didn’t have a choice! He was gonna—no, that’s not the point. It’s not an issue anymore.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Listen to me. I need ya to get away from here and head for the town. Go to the merchant who sells all the fancy gems—he’s yer ticket outta this place. He and I made a deal this mornin’. He said he’d let ya escape on the supply ship! All ya have to do is—”

“How could ya, Jàzzlan? How could ya become like them?”

The teen froze, feeling utterly helpless beneath his mother’s words. He knew it was a difficult thing to accept, but they were running out of time. He was running out of patience. “I’m not like them! I swear, ma! He had no good reason for threatenin’ our lives like that. Unlike that mutt, I had a reason for doin’ what I did!”

“No one has the right to murder a livin’ bein’!” His mother rose to her feet, sputtering her woes through tight hisses and trembling sobs. “No one had the right to kill my partner, and yet they did anyways! Those brutes, those heartless, savage hounds. They tore him apart like he was nothin’! It didn’t matter if they shared the same blood, he was murdered for the sake of mindlessly endin’ a life! What good can come from all this senseless violence?! Ya’ve stained yerself, Jàzzlan. Yer stained with the curse of those doggish rogues!”

“He was gonna kill ya! Why should I have let him take away yer life?! If I had let him have his way, ya’d be dead right now!”

“The only one who’s dead is my son!” She buried her face into her palms, averting her gaze from the creature in front of her. “Yer not him; Jàzzlan would never do somethin’ so horrendous! Yer not him . . . yer not him!” Suddenly, she succumbed to her fatigue, falling to her knees as she babbled out a slew of incoherent sentences. 

Jàzzlan stepped towards her, only to back away in shame. She was most likely in shock. It wouldn’t be wise to over stimulate her right now. Instead, he kept his voice low and calm, urging himself to keep his composure a little longer; now was not the time to lose himself in his sorrows. 

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m someone else now . . .” He glanced at his muddled pelt, his senses having grown accustomed to the rancid stench of blood. “Jàzzlan or not, I want ya to hear what I’ve got to say. Please, just listen to me one last time. That’s all I ask.” 

His mother ceased her confused mutters, her words now at an acceptable level to talk over. Jàzzlan quietly gave his thanks, clearing his throat of clinging dread. 

“I need ya to leave this place. It’s not safe for ya anymore. Pack yer things and make yer way to the town, just like ya’ve done on any regular day. When ya’ve reached the market, go to the gem trader and tell him Jàzzlan sent ya. He’ll keep ya safe until the cargo ship arrives.” He placed his paws into his pockets, running his fingers over the broken shards of tourmaline. It couldn’t be helped. There were other ways to bring back her smile. 

After saying all that he wanted, Jàzzlan glanced at his mother and noticed how much calmer she had become. Unfortunately, she looked much weaker than before. She heaved a shivering sigh, her head hung low to the ground. “What about my son? Will he be coming with me?”

Her question was painful to endure. She sounded as if she were locked in a haze, unable to grasp the concept of her new reality. All she wanted was her child—Jàzzlan could no longer provide her with that wish. He wasn’t her son anymore. In her eyes, he had become someone else. 

“No, he can’t. Not anymore.” Jàzzlan bit back the swell of his approaching tears, laying his misty eyes on his mother for the last time. 

“He told me that he’s sorry. He’s so sorry, ma.”

**• • •**

The day after the cargo ship left, Jàzzlan came out of hiding, twirling the keys to his newly acquired vessel.

Piloting a ship was harder than he had anticipated, its complicated controls much too difficult for him to understand. Even with his paperback guide by his side, he still failed to grasp the basic concepts of navigating a full fledged ship.

Getting the damn thing up and running was the first issue he had encountered. Just like his guide had warned him, it would appear that registered vessels would only acknowledge the presence of their proper pilots, often rejecting an outsider’s attempt at claiming the loyal carrier. Luckily for Jàzzlan, he had discovered a cunning workaround to this issue. While it was undeniably grim, he had no other choice but to comply with the immoral loophole. 

He was already a corrupt creature. What more could he possibly do to taint his reputation?

Splattered with the blood of the murdered bandit, he possessed enough of the hound’s unique DNA to gain access to the control panel. How anyone had missed this oversight was beyond him. Then again, he wasn’t in a position to start critiquing the advanced technology of the cosmos. He was nothing more than a novice, one who held very little knowledge on the endless Wastelands. 

He had no experience. The only thing he could rely on was the instructions in his guide and the vague claims his mother had described to him in the past. In her prime, she had been fortunate enough to have her own ship and passed some of her knowledge onto her son. Of course, he had been much too young to understand a lick of what she was saying, but now it was all coming back to him. Much like the events of last night.

Jàzzlan bit his lip and suppressed a whimper, willing himself to keep his composure. There wasn’t anything he could do now—he’d already done enough. After covering himself up, he led his mother away from the house and snuck her to the merchant’s stall, arriving much earlier than anticipated. The merchant was surprised, but not impatient with his sudden intrusion. He asked about the tourmaline; Jàzzlan told him to forget it.

With his head hung low and palms clasped around the broken gem, he bid farewell to the merchant and his mother, earning a minimal reaction from the catatonic woman. He could still hear the merchant calling for him, demanding to know what had happened, and why he was no longer joining his mother on the cargo ship. Jàzzlan only smiled, keeping his back turned to the one he cherished most. 

“I said her son would be joinin’ her,” he had stated. “Unfortunately, that’s not me.” His whiskers trembled in time with the streaks down his face. He raised his paw to the air and saluted the merchant, thanking him for all he had done. There was still hope for his mother. She’d find a new treasure, one that didn’t require him by her side. 

All he wanted to do was give her a better life. Instead, he had taken it all away, robbing her like the unruly pirate he had become 

Now he was alone, stranded in the cosmos with nothing good to his name. It was bittersweet and difficult to digest. After all those terrible years on the mountains, he had finally obtained the freedom he dreamed of. He was off the ground, speeding away to some unknown destination in the distance. He was supposed to be happy, not hopelessly depressed. 

He wondered how his mother was doing. The merchant had said that the cargo ship was set to land in a warmer realm, one similar to the place where his tourmaline was found. Would she be happy there? Was she heading to her homeland, or somewhere similar? Would she be taken care of?

Did she miss him at all?

Jàzzlan shook his head, ridding himself of these awful thoughts. No, she didn’t miss him. She missed Jàzzlan, not the murderous wretch he had become. She missed her harmless kit, not the bludgeoning hound that claimed a being’s life. He was angry, hurt and confused by her cold-blooded reaction. He had done it to save her life; why couldn’t she see that? 

_Because I promised I’d never become like them._

The feline blinked back a wave of tears, his entire world fading to a murky haze. He sniffled to himself quietly, sharing his woes with the stars of this realm. He betrayed her. He became the very thing he swore to reject. Brutish beast, heartless hound, mindless murderer . . . he was wicked to the bone. He was nothing but a villain. A malicious rogue. 

There wasn’t an ounce of good left in him. The moment he chose to end a life, his life also came to a close. Jàzzlan was no more—he had drowned, suffocated by the blood he drew. There was no room for a murderer like him in his mother’s heart. She rejected him, she had every right to.

“Damn it all!” Jàzzlan let his tortured yowl fall upon deaf ears, his guttural screams bringing him to his knees. He slammed his fists on the ship’s floor, cursing and sputtering with each breath he took. Again and again, he struck the floor, numb to the pains that shot up his arms. “Damn it, damn it,” he reeled back, squeezing the sharp object in his palm. “ _Damn it_!”

He threw the tourmaline shard to the floor, watching as it clattered in place. The rosy gem had sustained substantial damages, its previously round form riddled with cracks and jagged edges. Despite its rough state, the jewel was as beautiful as ever, still managing to radiate a sense of warmth. He dragged his puffy eyes over the precious rock, snarling at the ironic shape it decided to embody. 

Even after being shattered, it still looked like a heart. Broken, but whole nonetheless. 

Jàzzlan gently scooped the gem into his palms, turning the tourmaline between his shaky fingers. “I’m sorry, ma. I didn’t want it to be like this. I wish ya were here with me. I-I hope ya can forgive me one day. If not as Jàzzlan, then as someone else. I wonder if ya have it in ya to love him as well.”

He hunched his shoulders and closed his eyes, holding the gem to his unkempt forehead. It smoothed back his wild mane and nestled above his fur, a sensation of warmth reacting to the contact. Jàzzlan sighed, imagining his mother’s doting actions; a gentle kiss on his forehead, followed be her sweet sighs of comfort. It had been awhile since he thought about such moments, having mostly grown out of these embarrassing interactions. And yet, he found himself craving her touch, yearning for the chance to embrace his mother and know that everything would be alright. 

He was scared and frightened. Now, he was terrified to witness an unexpected event. 

Without warning, a terrible chill fell upon his soul. Jàzzlan opened his eyes in an instant, feelings as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He couldn’t explain it, this horrible darkness surrounding him. He jumped to his feet and ran for the viewing window, gasping at the disturbing display. 

One by one, the stars began to flicker out of existence, a mournful shade befalling the entire cosmos. They dimmed to nothing, taking their radiance and swiftly snuffing out their valuable light. It came like a torrential wave, knocking out their shining valour like a festering plague. Jàzzlan had never seen such an unsettling sight.

“Ma, what does it mean? What’s happenin’ to the stars? Ma, I’m scared. Please, ma, I-I don’t know what to do!” Without his mother by his side, he felt utterly lost. Desperate for some form of reassurance, he pressed the tourmaline to his forehead and muttered to himself, pulling himself from the brink of a breakdown. “Ya’ve always been there for me when things get tough. Don’t leave me now. Please, ma. Let me know it’ll all be okay.”

He knew it was pointless. No one would hear his cries in the dead of space, not even his beloved mother. He was alone, and rightfully so. Who would come to the aid of a foul creature like him?

Miraculously, it would seem that someone still took pity upon him.

Within moments, the sudden blackout had come to an end. Jàzzlan looked up with wide, golden eyes, tightly wrapping his fingers around the tourmaline on his head. A wobbly grin made its way to the surface, followed by a high pitched whimper. Even after all the things he had done, she hadn’t abandoned him—not yet

Perhaps there was still hope for him after all.

He felt wrong for stealing Jàzzlan’s mother, but such was the life of a nefarious pirate. He wasn’t a good being. If anything, he was the scum of the cosmos, a bandit who rejected his past in favour for an unknown future. All he did was cause aches and pains, vicious wounds that couldn’t be healed. He left scars in his wake, harming those he cared most for. 

For now, he’d simply steal the love that was meant for that woman’s son. It wasn’t his to have, making it all the more sweeter for his lonely heart. 

Whenever the pain seeped through the cracks, he’d sew them shut, refusing to bare the burden of her dead son. His anguish meant nothing to him; it held no place in his new life. His mother’s love was the treasure he stole, stashing it away for his own personal use. Did she know he was using it? What did it matter, anyways? Pirates never apologize for their ways. He’d simply tell them to endure it.

Endure the pain. Endure the suffering. Nothing in life was pleasant.

Then again, Meouch already knew this.

**• • • • •**

_Hyacinths, specifically purple ones, symbolize a deep regret for one's actions and speaks for their indescribable sorrows. To house a hyacinth in one's soul leads way to a miserable bloom._

 __

_**• • • • •** _


	3. A Change of Tempo

**• • •**

When Havve finally awoke, it wasn't what he had expected at all.

The world around him gradually lit up, a drowsy ruby wash breaking through the layers of sediment and dust that clouded his vision. He felt his circuits twitch, creaking in time with each new movement he experimented with. Everything was heavy. Rusted and immodest. 

Still gathering his bearings, he ran through his sluggish protocol and began his usual start up ritual:  


Optical Functions — Online  
(SNS) Synthetic Nervous System — Online  
(ILC) Internal Lexicomm Connections — Online  
Motor Functions — Booting up  
Peripheral Detections — Booting up  
Memory Banks — Pending

He paused his other functions. He swiftly redirected his focus to the error in his systems. Upon further inspection, a new status appeared, one that was deemed less than ideal:

Memory Banks — Insufficient Data

Insufficient Data? A corruption had most likely occurred, though Havve hadn’t the faintest idea how it came to be. Then again, he hadn’t a single clue—period. 

Why couldn’t he remember anything?

Once his systems were nearly restored, he slowly scanned his surroundings. It was terribly dark, but he wasn't bothered by it in the slightest. His eyes seemed to be equipped with some sort of night vision, allowing him to make out the fang-like stalactites that crowded the cavern he had woken up in. He could detect the delicate flow of water echoing somewhere in the back, a likely culprit for the rusted layer he had accumulated during his rest. 

During his scan, an anomaly suddenly appeared on his sensors. Havve blinked—rather forcefully due to the dirt that crusted his eyes. His peripherals shot a warning throughout his body, signaling him of an unknown presence by his side. Following his protocol, the robot attempted to move his body towards the disturbance, only to find that his limbs were jammed. He ran a quick scan; his hardware was badly corroded. 

How long had he been inactive for?

Pushing this thought to the side, Havve prioritized his task of identifying the unknown presence. He swivelled his head towards the figure by his side, narrowing his eyes in a silent warning. He could feel his protocol spark through his form, a thunderous tempo radiating from his centre. 

Havve paused and inspected at his chest. His scarlet gaze flickered across the device that was wired to his metallic sternum. It was foreign, an unfamiliar sight to the robot. But how did he know it was unfamiliar? Why couldn’t he remember? 

“So, you’ve finally gathered your senses,” said the voice.

The robot looked up, his systems working themselves into overdrive as they tried to identify the strange being. It appeared to be humanoid, dressed in a curious orange attire, their head piece nearly identical to the stalactites that lined the cavern’s perimeter. They had a ruby scarf draped around their neck, held in place by their angular shoulder pads and confident posture.

When Havve tried to look them in the eye, he only found darkness, their vision hidden behind the cold glare of their black visor. This left the robot unable to determine the being’s true intentions. This fact sat poorly in his protocol.

“What? Don’t stare at me like that,” quipped the being. “You’re starting to look even more monstrous than before.” The figure sat cross legged on the rocky ground, seeming at ease and unalarmed by Havve’s woken consciousness. “Guess my tinkering finally paid off. Rhythm, huh? What a weird power source you’ve got, robot.”

Havve eyed the being for a while. He listened to their odd dialect, picking up their words and phrases for future usage. Since he hadn’t a single memory to his name, he found no other option than to fill his banks with the information he was receiving. This being was the first thing he had seen upon waking up. His programs were parched, begging for a chance to drink in whatever knowledge they could acquire. 

“You’re an odd sight to see,” continued the being. “What the hell is an advanced piece of tech doing in the Mesozoic Period? Stashed away in a cave, no less. And this rust . . .” the being traced their hand across Havve’s exterior, sifting their fingertips through the crumbling corrosion. “Who knows how long this has been festering. I thought you were a pile of junk.”

Junk? That didn’t sound right at all. Havve was more than a pile of wilted metal, but he couldn’t recall any further than that. He wasn’t junk. He was something more.

“Who built you?” asked the being. They poked and prodded his weakened shell, housing the audacity to bend a piece of his exterior—it snapped off without much force. “Judging by your state, I’d say you’ve been here for a few centuries. Maybe even a millennium. What a shame. You probably looked better in your prime.”

The being threw the torn piece to the ground. “So, what’s your deal?” they asked. “How’d you end up here? Who’s your creator? Is there even a brain in there, or are you as dull as you look?”

Havve listened to the being’s tone and came to a quick conclusion. They seemed abrasive by nature. Rude, ill-mannered, haughty, and tactless.

“Damn, I went through all that trouble and not even a single grain of gratitude,” huffed the being. “Aren’t you going to thank me, rust bucket?” 

Correction—Egotistical. Self-absorbed as well. 

After receiving no sign of confirmation, the being swayed their head to the side as if possessed by an annoyed eye-roll. They mumbled a few things to themself and began rummaging through a pile of dirty rags by their side, a sight Havve had failed to notice. Now that he was aware of the rags, his sensors could detect a chemical in the air; it was acidic, a compound meant to dissolve rust. 

The being began swiping the cloth across each of Havve’s limbs, twisting and turning the fabric into the grooves of his compromised hardware. Between each scrub and dab of the chemical, the being would mutter something to themself, their words seeming to address no one in particular. Havve observed their movements and recluse behaviors, coming to yet another conclusion about this odd presence:

They seemed terribly lonely. 

While they worked away at Havve’s frozen form, the being eventually brought their chatter to his level. “You’re in rough shape, buddy,” they commented. “It’s a miracle that your circuits held up this long. Paired with the corrosion, the dirt and grim between your wires, the vines in your joints . . . you’re a real mess. Not to mention the water damage. Thankfully, it seems your previous owner took that into account when they built you. Completely waterproof; what a nifty feature.” 

Havve couldn’t recall any of these facts about himself. His protocol made it obvious that he was a mechanical being, but something about it felt . . . off. It made sense, but a part of him wanted to reject the notion entirely. As he sat immoblie beneath the figure’s working hands, he felt a need arise in his chest. He paused, puzzled by the unnatural desire. 

No—it was a _natural desire._ One he could no longer enact for himself. 

Havve blinked furiously, feeling taken aback by this thought. He couldn’t understand what he was thinking and why it seemed to affect him so much. What happened to him during his prolonged slumber? More importantly, what happened before he was deactivated, and where were his memories?

The figure must have taken notice of his alert state. “Ah, you’ve finally sobered up? It’s about time. I was beginning to think your mind was fried beyond repair.” The being continued to work away at Havve’s joints, seeming much more willing to talk now that he knew someone was listening. “It took me a lot of time to get you up and running again, robot. I haven’t seen tech like this in awhile. I know for a fact that you don’t belong in this time. I guess that’s where you and I are the same.”

Havve’s interest peaked at these words. He listened dutifully, gathering every bit of information the strange being shared.

“I ended up here on a miscalculated whim,” they began. “I decided to take an impromptu jump through the Bridge, only to be catapulted out of the tunnel when my engines failed. Not even the recovery route could save my course. Before I knew it, I had accidentally jumped back a few dimensions, landing me on this pitifully underdeveloped planet. To my surprise, I managed to find my way to the First Dimension! The worst of the bunch!”

The being scoffed in annoyance. They seemed very displeased with their current situation.

“Getting back to the Fifth Dimension is going to be such a hassle,” they grumbled. “I’ll have to rewire the ship’s controls until I get the right configuration. But that’ll take me weeks! I should know; I was the one who designed the Bridge in the first place.” The being gave a resigned sigh. “You’d think I’d know how to avoid these mishaps by now, but they always seem to find me no matter what. Just another way the cosmos likes to make a fool out of me.”

Havve took this information to heart, and by that he meant his artificial sustainer. Speaking of which—he examined his new power source, tilting his head at the unfamiliar object. It was large and rectangular, littered with countless buttons, knobs, and levers, each one seeming to have their own separate functions. Whatever this being had done to him, it seemed to work, successfully bringing his systems back up and operational. 

A new rhythm flowed through his body, welcoming a revitalized sensation to spark away at his circuits. He felt as if he had a different spring to his step—a brand new tempo for him to follow. This stuck him as odd. What was wrong with his last life source? And why was it missing in the first place?

“Hey, are you paying attention?” The being’s sharp voice brought Havve back to the present. “I asked you to try and move your arms. I think I’ve worked enough to loosen your joints. You should’ve gained a bit of your mobility back.”

True to the being’s words, Havve was now able to move one of his arms. It gave a dreadful shriek as it crunched and gnawed at the excess rust between the cracks, but repetitive movement soon solved this issue. With a few more shrugs, he was finally free from one of his restraints. 

“Don’t get too crazy, robot,” cautioned the being. “I still have more work to do.” 

Havve nodded and allowed the being to continue their work, sitting perfectly still while he learned more about the interesting lifeform. 

“The name’s Sung,” said the being. He looked deep in concentration as he worked away at the lingering debris, unconsciously sticking his tongue out while he scrubbed Havve’s artificial wounds. He continued to poke and prod without missing a beat. “Strange design. Definitely not of this world. I’d guess that you came from one of the ulterior dimensions. ”

 _An ulterior dimension?_ Havve wondered to himself. Luckly, it would seem Sung already anticipated the robot’s puzzled glance.

“Anything above the primal dimensions—First, Second, and Third. You and I are currently stranded in the First dimension,” explained Sung. “The dimensions I mentioned are notoriously slower than the others. Undeveloped, primal, clueless to the vastness of the cosmos . . . a bunch of infants, really. Nearly all the inhabitants of this realm are stuck on their planets, save for a few who managed to slip under the radar.” He gave an annoyed sigh. “Out of the handful of times I’ve wound up here, it’s been nothing but rampaging lizards and ugly fish trying to walk on land. Why your creator wanted to keep you here is a mystery in itself.”

Havve found himself agreeing with the man. Clearly he was an advanced lifeform who was capable of intelligence and systematic logic. His presence on this world was pointless. So why had he been abandoned here? More importantly, why was he intentionally deactivated? 

“Anyways,” Sung moved himself to better tend to the rust on Havve’s other side. “I never got your name. What did your creator call you?”

 _My name is Havve,_ he found himself thinking, but his words failed to reach the man. Havve paused when a curious tightness invaded his neck, his wires protesting against the physical action of speaking. How odd. It felt like he should be familiar with the movements of speaking, and yet his mechanical body rejected the process. It was too natural for him.

“No name, huh?” said Sung. “I guess I should give you one.”

Havve’s scarlet eyes widened. He shook his head furiously, refusing to take on a different alias. His name was one of the only things he remembered about himself. He wouldn’t let this man take it away from him. 

Sung sighed loudly. “Okay, so you have a name. Spit it out, robot. I’m not a fan of this coy act of yours.”

Havve began thinking of a way to share his name. He tampered with the idea of carving it on the stone floor with his weapons—another aspect of himself he was unaware of—though he soon realized his mother tongue had been lost. Plus, there was no way this being would understand the markings of another language. More annoyingly, it would seem he lacked the understanding to emulate the being’s written alphabet. He could understand him due to the translator implanted in his systems, but it was only good for audio.

His original vernacular has been completely wiped from his mind. 

He felt the need to sigh. Of course, nothing happened. He was artificial in every sense.

Havve could sense Sung’s growing impatience with his inability to communicate. He stayed quiet, but his movements were more rigid than before. He seemed to be showing more restraint than what was typical for him. Perhaps he was curious, intrigued by the circumstances surrounding the robot’s existence. 

Digging even further, Havve could detect a sliver of unease as well, this feeling triggered once the man started working to free the rust around his questionable blades. Sung’s silent brooding was easily deciphered by Havve’s keen diagnosis. Nothing could slip past his sensors.

Then it hit him. 

There was a faint link shared between them—emotional one. A one-sided transaction that had been activated upon his revival. Why this function existed was a mystery in itself. Regardless of its purpose, Havve was pleased to know it was still operable, lying dormant beneath his withered shell, migrating its functions to his renewed lifesource. 

He put his newly acquired centre to work, playing around with the different levels and tempos the device possessed. It made strange noises and housed unusual tones, but the frequency was there. Undetectable to the average lifeform, yet perfectly suited for his unique needs. With this in mind, he went to work, testing his ‘voice’ until it reached its target.

“My name,” he ‘said’, switching between numerous silent frequencies, “is Havve.” 

Sung jumped slightly. He looked up with his mouth agape, startled by the sudden intrusion through his mind. “How did you—” he looked around the cave in a frenzy, thinking there was someone else nearby. When he found nothing, he returned his focus to Havve. “That’s your voice? But it’s not even. . . . I mean, what was that? Some type of tone?”

Feeling amused—a sensation he had gathered from Sung’s embedded emotional state—Havve played with his new voice again. “A frequency, yes. I would seem I’ve found the right one.” 

“Really? That busted 808 composer did this?” Sung looked away, placing his fingers thoughtfully beneath his chin. _What the hell?_ he thought to himself. _This robot is unreal!_

“And what about me is unreal?” asked Havve, ignoring Sung’s bewildered expression. “I am physically in front of you, yes? That would mean I am quite real.”

“How the hell did you do that!?” exclaimed Sung. He swiftly backed away from Havve and pointed towards him with a trembling finger. “You just read my mind! How could you have known what I was thinking?”

“Thinking? It’s not strictly thoughts that I can pick up on,” said Havve. He paused for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around the strange concept. “Your emotions. I can sense them. I’ve been able to detect them since my revival. How fascinating.” He turned to Sung. “You are feeling shocked right now, yes? Perhaps a little frightened?”

“I-I don’t know if frightened is the right word,” stammered Sung. He took a deep breath to compose himself, willing his legs to walk back to the robot. He stood before Havve’s slumped figure, meeting his scarlet eyes at the same level. “I’m surprised and uneasy . . . but in a good way. In all my years, I’ve never come across something as bizarre as you. Artificial telepathy—impossible! Yet here you are! Why would anyone want to abandon you here? They must’ve been insane.”

Indeed, that was the question Havve found himself wondering the most. Perhaps he was separated with his previous owner due to some unforeseen circumstances. However, this option seems less likely when he thought about what Sung had said. Clearly he didn’t belong here—his creator must have purposely brought them here together. Judging by the way his previous power source was dismantled, it would suggest that his fate was supposed to be sealed in this cave, destined to deteriorate in the shadows. 

Havve wanted to know why. 

He dragged his eyes over Sung’s babbling form, his memory banks unconsciously storing more information on the one who had revived him. He was quite chatty, boarding on the line of insanity with the way he was talking. It seemed like he had been silent for a while, his words tumbling out like waters from a broken dam. Another trait was added to Havve’s database on Sung—potentially manic.

Once Sung got over his excited rambling, he continued to tend to Havve’s stiff joints, diligently working to free his limbs from their corroded prison. Within a few hours, the man had nearly succeeded in his task. Havve’s exterior was a sight for sore eyes, but he was definitely better than when he had been found. He was no longer caked in layers of dirt, nor was he plagued by the copper tint of rust. Sung even took the time to prune the foliage that wrapped around the robot’s circuits, plucking and pulling until there was nothing left in his systems. 

How something had thrived within his lifeless husk was a mystery the two beings couldn't decipher.

**• • •**

By the time Havve was freed from his ailments, night had fallen on the primal realm. The cavern they resided in was swamped by darkness, snuffing out any source of light for them to use. Luckily, Havve was equipped with excellent night vision, allowing him to see through the darkest of environments. It would appear that Sung was properly equipped as well, though this did nothing to relieve him of his worries.

“You seem troubled,” commented Havve. He could see the way Sung kept darting his head back and forth at the slightest sound, his posture noticeably tense as he rushed to finish up his work. “Is something the matter?”

“Of course! My situation is less than ideal at the moment,” he explained. He glanced behind his shoulder, releasing a gust of wind when he saw nothing behind him. “This is the Mesozoic period we’re talking about. The creatures that roam this world are fearsome beasts. Killing machines! Every dimension has gone through a Mesozoic period before, and each one housed terrifying monsters. This place is no different. I could easily lose my life to one of those mindless lizards.” The sound of a distant twig snapping nearly sent Sung into a panic. 

“Losing your life . . . can you explain?” Havve inquired. The concept sounded familiar, and yet he couldn’t quite articulate it.

Sung scoffed at the absurd question. “Losing your life—it means dying, Havve. You can’t come back after that.”

“But I was revived. Certainly it would be possible for you as well?”

“Tsk, idiot. That’s not how it works. There’s no fairytale solution to bringing back a life” Sung shook his head in a chastising manor. “A husk like you wouldn’t understand. Living things—like myself—can kick the bucket if we meet the right circumstances. You could starve, suffocate, drown, get impaled, suffer blunt trauma, get eaten alive by some dimwitted dinosaur . . . you can even die from old age. Luckily, that’s not really a problem for me. It’s one of the only things you and I have in common.”

“Is that so?” Havve took this into consideration. He promptly added this to his database on Sung. “Then you are ageless? Immune to the burdens of temporal death?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Sung shrugged. “It comes from being an immortal lifeform. And before you ask—no. I won’t say anymore. This discussion is done, got it?” His voice suddenly became hushed, his words sounding strained and painful. Beneath his command, Havve found himself unable to protest. 

He dropped the discussion entirely and started a new one.

“Why do you think I was left here?” he asked. 

Sung seemed taken aback by his blunt question. Without a plausible answer of his own, the man could only sigh. “Who knows? Maybe your old creator got tired of you, found a new toy to tinker around with. Trust me, I’d love to know why something as advanced as you was left in the dust. It doesn’t make the slightest sense to me.” He glanced up at Havve. “Are you sure you can’t remember anything? Maybe I could take a look and—”

“No. You will not,” said Havve. For some reason, his protocol was severely against this intrusive notion. Instead, he went back to the previous question. “When I was revived, my memory banks had been wiped clean. I have no recollection of my past, nor of my creator. I only house information on my encounter with you.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” teased Sung. “What? Does that mean you only think of me? I must have made quite an impression if you can’t stop thinking about me.” He placed his hands below his chin, waggling his head in an absurd manner. A coy smile curled across his features. 

“On the contrary,” said Havve, “I only think of the data I have gathered, such as your egotistical and narcissistic tendencies, some of which you are choosing to display at this very moment.” 

Sung’s fake smile faltered. He glared at Havve with an annoyed scowl, followed by a series of short commands. “Asshole. Why don’t you just shut up and shut down.”

Suddenly, Havve couldn’t fight his terse demands. 

His body went limp, his numerous limbs falling to his side with a startling clang. The noise echoed through the cave in a frightful symphony, a cacophony of clamouring metal that nearly deafened Sung. He cringed at the dreadful commotion, feeling both surprised and dismayed that Havve had actually listened to his hasty commands. Unfortunately, when Havve powered down, he was in an awkward position, one that prompted his entire body to topple over with a roaring impact. The hideous noise travelled out of the cave in a tumultuous rampage, signalling the entire realm of their current position.

Sung held his breath. His heart skipped a beat when a ghastly shadow slithered its way to the entrance of the cavern.

The enormous beast sniffed, exhaling its rancid breath into the dingy hollow. Its yellow eyes flickered around the perimeter of the cave, carefully observing the fine details of the weathered dwelling. Fighting back the urge to panic, Sung remained perfectly still, enveloped by the dread of a cold sweat. He kept his breathing shallow, silently hoping this creature didn’t possess refined hearing. He couldn’t remember the specifics of this species, but he knew it was dangerous. Incredibly so.

To his horror, the creature began snuffling its way further into the cavern, its bulky form managing to squeeze into the narrow corridor. Its sniffing had increased, a low, menacing growl emanating from its throat. It seemed intent on locating the source of the noise. More than than, it appeared to be scoping out its next meal—a task it soon succeeded in.

The lizard’s neck craned to the side as it beheld Sung’s trembling form. Scared to his wit’s end, the man backed up against the cave wall, nearly bumping into Havve’s catatonic form.

 _Stupid hunk of junk. He’s the reason for this mess!_ Sung thought to himself. He didn’t have to listen to his commands in the first place; he never asked him to! 

Out of all the outlandish things he could have died from, eaten alive by a Mesozoic creature was definitely not something he anticipated. He flinched when the beast reared back with a frightening roar, its head lunging forwards and snapping its jaws in his direction. He yelped loudly, waiting for the teeth to sink into his flesh.

After a few moments of painless silence, he began to suspect something was wrong.

When Sung opened his eyes, he couldn’t believe the sight before him, nor the pungent smell that invaded his senses.

Standing before him was the robot he had just revived, its stance firm and unwavered as it plunged its weapons through the creature’s tough skin, ripping through its layers as if it were paper. Havve pushed the dribbling beast back with ease, discarding its limp body outside the cavern like a piece of worthless trash. One of the most striking things about this ordeal was the irate tempo that rocked the hallow with its ghastly song.

The pace gradually sped up, kicking into overdrive as it grew accustomed to the demands of the robot’s embedded protocol. The rhythm was terrifying, a prelude to the destruction it was about to provoke. Sung dragged his sight over Havve’s rigid stance—he felt himself pale at the chilling sight.

This machine . . . was meant for brutal mutilation.

Once the beast was disposed of, Havve returned to face Sung’s cowering form, appearing to be unaffected by the act he had just committed. “Are you alright?” he asked calmly. 

“Y-yes,” stammered Sung. “I’m fine, thanks.” He locked eyes with Havve’s vermilion points, mesmerized by the savage passion that danced through his vision. “I think I know why you were deactivated. . . .” He couldn’t hide the nervous lift in his voice. “Why did you decide to—”

“It seems I owe my life to the one who revived me,” stated Havve. “Therefore it only makes sense for me to return the favour.” He bowed his head. He then offered one of his graspers. “Can you stand?”

It took a few moments for Sung to regain his senses, but when he did, he gladly accepted the robot’s hand. “A robot sidekick, huh? I’ve heard stranger things before.” With Havve’s help, he managed to steady himself, stifling a laugh during his ascension. “Pfft, what the hell? Are you serious, man?”

“Yes,” said Havve. His delivery was deadpanned, lacking any sort of humour. “I am.”

“Alright then.” Sung smiled uneasily. “I guess I’ve no choice now. It’d be a huge waste to leave you here now that I know what you’re capable of.” He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers in deep thought. Then, he smiled mischievously—after a while, it morphed into something crooked and unhinged.

“I want to see more of your ‘talents’, Havve,” he chuckled. “Think you can show me again?”

Havve bobbed his head obediently, his tempo picking up in artificial excitement once he was given permission to indulge in his protocol. “Certainly, sir. If that is what you wish.”

“Perfect. But, er, don’t call me ‘sir’. It’s too formal for my liking. ‘Sung’ works perfectly fine.”

Havve’s eyes lit up. He took the new information to his 808 heart. “Of course, Sung.”

“There we go, big guy! You’ve got it.” Sung turned his head towards the entrance of the cavern, taking in the sight of the deceased creature by the front. Its scaled body glistened in the moonlight, followed by the swift stream of blood that poured from its fatal wounds. Carnage. A brutal and painful death on the creature’s part. 

Was its demise cruel? Perhaps. Was it one of the most exciting and entertaining things Sung had seen in a few centuries? Absolutely. 

The man grinned to himself, feeling the blood rush to his ears as his dormant adrenaline took hold. Oh, this would be _good._

“C’mon, robot. I want to see you turn the night red.”  


**• • •**

“Hey, Havve. Check this out.”

At the sound of his companion’s voice, Havve looked up from his control panels. He could see Sung’s worried expression light up his monitor, a nervous scowl etched across his face. He seemed troubled—it was easy to detect the unease that lingered in his heart.

“What’s the matter?” Havve inquired, seeing no immediate threat within their vicinity. He checked his ship’s sensors, finding them stagnant and in perfect condition. As a precaution, he let one of his graspers linger over his weapon commands. “Is it something we should be concerned about?”

Sung shook his head on the monitor. 

“No, I don’t think so,” he hummed, though his tone suggested otherwise. Although he did not physically speak when addressing Havve, there was no way for the man to hide his true feelings. Be it verbal or telepathic, Havve always knew what lay beneath his surface. “But it’s definitely unusual, to say the least.”

“Care to elaborate?” asked Havve.

“Well, I can’t say for sure, but it looks like . . . something is wrong.”

Havve blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Take a look for yourself. Tell me if that looks normal to you.” Sung’s image blipped out of existence, leaving Havve to survey the open space for himself. 

He cast his gaze across the different hues that twirled through the cosmic haze, taking note of all the rich colours and spinning minerals. They were currently traveling through an unmarked asteroid field, one that was discovered to be a unique hybrid; an incredibly rare phenomenon that few had ever seen for themselves. A stardust belt.

Combined with the numerous bodies of asteroids and debris, the stardust in this environment has spent billions of years whittling away at the rocks’ tough exterior, fusing their glimmering attributes in their previously mundane forms. What came for their fusion was the dazzling display of cosmic gemstones, their beauty said to be breathtaking to all who looked upon their forms. 

Of course, Sung wasn’t too impressed by this rare occurrence. He had already seen a handful of these realms in his endless life. Therefore, Havve was left unfazed as well.

“Well? Do you see what I’m talking about?” urged Sung in his mind.

Havve squinted in uncertainty, eyeing each of the gemstones with careful consideration. So far, there was nothing that indicated a cause for alarm. “I don’t see what you mean. There’s nothing unusual about this field.”

Sung grumbled on the other end of their link. “I’m not talking about the field, Havve. Look beyond—don’t you see? The stars. They’re darker than usual.”

“Is that so?” Havve peered beyond his immediate surroundings, taking note of the strange dimness that had enveloped the stars in the distance. “You’re right. They do appear to have lost their shine. I can’t think of a reason as to why that would happen.”

“Neither can I,” admitted Sung. “I’ve never seen something like this before, and that’s saying something.” His words dragged to a quiet conclusion, doused with a shaky unease. The immortal prided himself on knowing everything about the cosmos. For him to encounter an unknown situation was immensely troubling. “I think we should get out of here.” 

“Agreed.” Havve could feel waves of anxiety roll off his companion, an unusual emotion for the jaded being. This concerned him deeply. “You are very troubled, Sung. Why? It’s not like you to be affected by outside interference.”

“I’m not . . . just, drop it, Havve. Okay?” He dismissed any further questions. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

Havve bowed his head, finding no need to continue with his thoughts. “As you wish.”

As they were preparing the set up a Bridge, something rocked them into an unforeseen chaos.

Havve looked up in alarm when a wave of darkness washed over the field of gemstones, snatching every ounce of light with swift, devastating claws. The startling event sent their ships into a sputter. Their controls blared in confusion, unable to detect anything within their vicinity due to the thick shadows in front of them. Havve winced when his vessel scraped against a sharpened piece of rock, no doubt carving an unwanted insignia into its side.

“What the hell was that?!” Sung cursed on their line. His foul mouth continued to let loose a series of choice words, some of which he kept repeating without a clear reason. It was then that Havve felt the petrifying fear within the man’s heart. 

He hastily scanned the blank skies with his scarlet eyes, surprised to see the stars without their shine. What remained were millions of pitch black dots, their presence sending a terrible chill across the entire galaxy. While Havve was unfamiliar with the feeling of fear, his circuits began to emulate the strange feeling—he didn’t enjoy it at all. 

This wasn’t just Sung’s fear. It was his _own._

Thankfully, the dreadful display only lasted a few minutes. Without any warning, the stars lit up in a furious frenzy, their light much brighter than it had ever been. They glimmered with awesome intensity, shrouding the cosmos in a blanket of decadent warmth, beckoning for onlookers to bask in their renewed glory. 

Havve struggled to find the right words for this event. In the end, his mind chose a simple word: beautiful. 

He paused, unable to move. Just now he had felt fear, genuine fear. It had locked his circuits and sent his tempo into a frenzy. It made him feel unwell—twisted in his thundering chest. Then, it was all washed away by a sensation of tranquility. A warm, pleasant feeling, one he enjoyed to have circulating through his systems. These feelings were . . . unnatural. And yet, they were uniquely natural.

For that brief moment in time, he had felt _alive._

Forcing himself back to the present, Havve quickly checked on his nervous companion. “It would seem that everything is back to normal. Are you alright, Sung?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. He remained quiet for a few moments. “I don’t have the faintest clue as to what just happened, but I don’t like it one bit. We’re leaving, Havve. We’re taking the closest Bridge out of this section of the cosmos.” Then, he gave a nervous chuckle. “Seriously, what the hell is with this place?”

“I cannot think of an explanation, but it seems to have troubled you.” Havve found himself speaking more freely than he was used to. “Would you . . . like to talk about it?”

Sung went silent. When he decided to speak, his words were crute and sharp. “No. End of discussion.” He began inputting the commands for a getaway Bridge. “Let’s just forget about this.”

Havve nodded his head, complying with the request of his companion. Truthfully, he was glad to have received a command from his partner. It was much easier for him to follow than it was to act on his own. The thought of autonomy was a new concept, one he didn’t feel ready to exercise quite yet. 

His hesitancy was a pain. But then again, perhaps that's what made it human in the first place.

“As you wish, Sung.”

**• • • • •**

_Eranthis symbolizes hope, rebirth and new beginnings. These six-petaled flowers are extremely toxic, even the smallest of doses causing complications to one's heart. If exposed too long, the results may become irreversible, inviting a prolonged, agonizing death through cardiac arrest._

**• • • • •**


	4. Our Undying Melody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE:** Contains major spoilers for **[The Stars are in his Eyes.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139636/chapters/58123336)** It is suggested that you read this _after_ completing the main story. Thanks!

**• • •**

A simple glance was all he needed to know which realm they had landed in. No, not a realm—a whole dimension. Universally agreed to be the worst of them all.

Sung slumped in his chair with a disgruntled growl. He shook his head slowly, silently cursing his terrible luck. Of all the times for his engines to malfunction in the Bridge, of course it had to be this moment. They were supposed to be on their way to a hospitable waypoint, one meant to serve as their well deserved rest stop. He had it all planned out too. A simple jump into the Bridge was all he wanted; was that too much to ask?

He promised them a realm without worry. He promised the beautiful songs of singing rocks, the comforts of a warm breeze, and the wonders of a bioluminescent shore, all framed beneath the permanent sunset of the fabled planet. When thinking of a place to relax for a few days, that one destination was all he thought about. He only wanted to share it with his companions. 

Now, his plans were thrown out the window when they were forced to make an emergency landing.

Sung mumbled a few more choice words to himself, then heaved a great sigh, directing his attention towards the issue at hand. He punched in numerous codes in an attempt to locate the problem. When he found the glaring error, he could only let out another series of fed up grumbles and annoyed remakes under his breath. If they had an engineer on their team, none of these stupid malfunctions would keep happening. 

“Aww, c’mon, Sung. It can’t be that bad, right?”

The doctor looked up to the sound of a gentle voice. He cast his gaze to where his companion sat, the Moebian seeming much more composed than he was at the moment. She lounged with a commendable posture, seeming unfazed by the situation they found themselves in. Instead, she marvelled at the new world with wide eyes and a refreshing sense of fascination, her mouth agape in silent wonderment. At such an honest sight, Sung felt his annoyance subside for the time being.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” she began. Avida quickly scanned her soligram, narrowing her dark eyes while she flipped through every bit of information the device could offer. “The damages on the engines aren’t very severe; they only affect our ability to travel through the Bridge. It’s lucky that we’ve stalled on a planet, specifically one that seems to be hospitable for all of us. We could try to fix the engines ourselves, or we could call for assistance, lay low until they finish, and be on our way like nothing happened.” She tilted her head, watching her leader with a confused frown. “What? Is something wrong with that idea?”

“I hate to break it to you, Avida,” said Sung, shaking his head. “We’ve gotten ourselves mixed up in another dimension. The First Dimension, to be exact.”

“We’re—what?!” She jumped out of her chair, her body trembling not out of fear, but of excitement, a feeling fuelled by her innocent sense of curiosity. “Another dimension? As in, a completely different world?” She bounced towards Sung’s chair and began to chatter relentlessly. “Stars alive, this is incredible! I had no idea that was even possible. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because it’s not supposed to happen,” replied Sung with another long sigh. “The Bridge usually functions without any issues, but sometimes it can get thrown out of whack when your engines malfunction. In rare cases, the recovery tunnel won’t be able to keep up with the confusion and it’ll toss you into whatever zone it sees fit. When that happens, it has a habit of throwing pilots into random dimensions.” He then scoffed in annoyance. “Apparently, I have some invisible strings that tie me to this dull place.” 

“How come I’ve never heard of this happening to others?” asked Avida. “Surely something this monumental would be floating around the cosmos.”

“Trust me, this thing happens all the time, but it hardly gets mentioned, mostly because those who encounter it are lost in the process. Any pilot who finds themself tossed into a different dimension has almost no chance of coming back again. Without the proper knowledge regarding the Bridge and its inner workings, it's impossible to reverse the transfer.” He gave a small shrug. “Those unfortunate enough to get trapped have to learn how to adapt in their new realm. If they’re lucky, it’ll be a world they can easily maneuver, perhaps one with advanced technology. If they’re unlucky, they’ll end up in a primal place like this.”

“So, we’ll be stuck here?” Avida gulped. She began to lose her carefree attitude, her previous nonchalant smile replaced with a fretful scowl. “But we can’t! We need to get back to our world!” Her worried tone echoed through the hull, prompting a fevered light to swamp her core, flooding the vessel with its blinding, azure glare. 

Seeing his companion so distraught made Sung feel dreadful. He hadn’t meant to cause her panic, nor any sense of unhappiness or fear. His stomach twisted into an unpleasant knot, the guilty sensation ruthlessly gnawing at his insides when he thought about his inconsiderate choice. He should have told her about this phenomenon sooner. She had been in their company for three years and knew a lot, but it still wasn’t anywhere near his own knowledge.

“Hold on, before you worry yourself sick, let me explain a few things—” He invited her to sit down, motioning her to remain calm. “Yes, we’re currently stranded in this dimension, but it’s not the end of the world. I’ve been in this exact same situation before and have gotten out everytime. No one knows the Bridge better than I do. It’ll take me a few days to finish the repairs, but I promise that it can be done.” 

Despite the situation they found themselves in, a moresole of pride slithered its way into Sung’s words, unintentionally changing his tone into a sly quipe. “I was the one who designed the Bridge in the first place,” he boasted. “What kind of genius wouldn’t know how to reverse this type of problem?”

“The same genius who allowed it to happen in the first place,” sneered Avida. She ignored the pointed glare she received from her friend. “Alright then, what’s the next course of action? You seem to harbour some resentment for this realm. The First Dimension, was it? What’s so bad about this place anyways? The soligram says the planet is hospitable and teeming with advanced lifeforms.” 

“Advanced?” Sung laughed at the claim. “Please, the last time I crashed here there was nothing but overgrown lizards, carnivorous beasts, and some dumb, mindless mammals walking on all fours. A few million years isn’t enough time for them to advance to our standards.”

“Well, the soligram says otherwise.” Avida hummed. She put her device away and shuffled out of her chair, brushing a white lock from her face with a flick of her wrist. “There’s no point in sulking if we’re in a safe place. We should take a look around and get to know our surroundings, especially since we’re going to be stuck here for a while. There’s no way I’m going to stay in this ship with that sour attitude of yours. Let’s take the chance to explore! Who knows, we might even find something worth wild on this planet.”

“I highly doubt it,” said Sung. “If it’s anything like when I found Havve, we’ll be in a world of trouble.”

Avida whipped her head back, an incredulous expression etched across her features. “You found Havve here? In this dimension?”

“Yeah. Same planet too.”

“Why am I just learning this now? You’re unbelievable, doc.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Doesn’t it fill you with nostalgia being back here? This is where you found your best friend in the entire cosmos. I’m sure Havve must—wait,” she paused, directing her words to the unseen presence beside their ship. “What do you think, Hogan? You’ve been awfully quiet this entire time.”

Roused from the shadows, Havve allowed his voice to flow through their connection. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt your bickering,” he teased, housing an element of snark to his words. “As for me, I don’t care too much for this realm. If it’s alright with you, I’ll be abstaining from your excursion. I’d much rather focus on bringing the ships back to working condition.” 

Sung nodded his head in agreement. “A good use of time,” he said. “I’ll gladly help you.”

“Aww, don’t be like that,” huffed Avida. “I’m sure he can handle the ships on his own; the two of you are practically the same being by this point. There’s no way he doesn’t possess the same knowledge as you when it comes to patching the engines.” 

Sung tried to hide his face from his companion, but it was too late. She could already sense the sudden shift of his emotions—she had seen straight through his excuse. 

“Besides,” she continued, “if this place is as bad as you say, then I’ll need someone to back me up in case things go wrong. You wouldn’t leave your co-pilot hanging, would you?” She held a childlike grin, smirking while she leaned into her leader’s chair, poking and jabbing his arm with playful intent. “C’mon, let’s scope this place out! Maybe we can find something for that collection you’re hoarding, eh?”

“I’m not hoarding!” insisted Sung, turning to face his co-pilot. A rosy blush began to pepper his features. “It’s not even that bad. There’s nothing wrong with keeping things you find interesting.”

“Uhuh. Unfortunately, you seem to find _everything_ interesting. There’s a reason I keep my things on Havve’s ship.” Avida rolled her eyes, earning a disgruntled huff from her leader. “Hobbies aside, we should get a move on while it’s still light outside. The sun hasn’t finished setting quite yet. We should have enough time to see what we want before it gets dark.” 

Sung heaved a sigh, though its origin was good natured. He shook his head and cracked a small smile. “Jeez, impatient, are we? Don’t let the excitement of a new realm get to your head, Avida. We still have to remain vigilant. There’s no telling what type of beings we’re dealing with here.”

Avida smirked, turning to Sung with a sly glint in her eyes. “All the more reason to be thrilled for the adventure.”

**• • •**

After gathering the necessary attire, the two beings left their ship, one with a bound to her step, the other with a slow, dragging sulk, his head hung low as he willed himself to keep up with his excited teammate.

Avida wasted no time rushing through the autumn forest, bobbing and weaving between the falling leaves that crossed her path. She would let out a small gasp of delight whenever the leaves crunched beneath her boots, turning back to Sung with a bright smile and a series of chuckles. 

“See? This isn’t bad at all,” she assured. She rushed forwards with a sudden burst of energy, kicking up a pile of leaves and letting them dance around her form. She held out her hands and reached for the stragglers, collecting a decent pile of red, orange, and golden leaves for her to keep. Stifling a laugh, she brushed away the ones that clung to her hair. “I think it’s quite beautiful.”

Sung remained silent. Despite the seemingly harmless environment, he still remained vigilant for his friend’s sake, keeping his attention sharp and open to their surroundings. Every crack of a twig, every gust of wind, every shifting sound through the forest; it was all being closely monitored. He refused to let his guard down. There was no telling what kind of creatures lurked in the shedding grotto. 

Oblivious to his unease—or simply deciding to ignore it—Avida skipped ahead without a care in the world, marvelling at the thinning canopy above. 

“Look at how the sunlight filters through,” she gasped. “I can’t understand how you’re still bitter about this place. I haven’t come across anything that’s dangerous, nor anything that fits your terrible description. Are you sure this is the same planet?”

“Definitely. There’s no mistaking it.” He sniffed once, inhaling the cool, earthy scent of the withering leaves. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means, but he still couldn’t shake his displeasure for the land. Nothing about the First Dimension appealed to him. It was primitive, dull, and void of anything interesting. It housed beastiel creatures and lacked intelligent lifeforms; what an absolute nightmare of a place. “We must’ve caught it on a good day.”

“Ah, so you admit that it holds some redeeming qualities. It’s a start, Sung.” Avida stopped her joyful prance and slowed to a walk, matching pace with her lagging companion. She met him by his side and shifted beneath her coat, trying to get comfortable in her attire. “This place is a lot better than some of the planets we’ve visited. Remember that awful desert? Bleh! I thought I was going to choke on all that sand! And let’s not forget that dingy swamp we had to hide in for a few days. . . .”

Sung couldn’t suppress his laughter. “Alright, I get your point. By comparison, this place is way more ideal than some of our last pit stops, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy to be here.” He crossed his arms in annoyance, his features tugging down into a frown. “This wasn’t what I promised the two of you at all. We were supposed to be recharging on a luminescent beach in the nicest corner of the cosmos, not some castaway planet in the worst dimension. Because of my errors, we have to spend our only break stuck in this place.”

“We’re not ‘stuck’, remember? We’ll get out of here eventually,” Avida reminded him. Despite the doctor’s bitter attitude, she refused to let his words fester. “And it’s not a waste of our time at all. It’s still a break, yeah? So let’s make the most of what we’ve been given.” She fiddled with the leaves in her hands, her feathered ears flickering in time with each delicate crunch. 

She held one of the leaves above her head and smiled softly, appreciating the scarlet glow on its sun-kissed skin. “Do you think Havve would like the red ones?”

“You’re unbelievable,” cackled Sung, his head reared back in a delighted chuckle. No matter the situation, Avida always had a way to bring his spirits back. Be it though her gentle words or innocent beliefs, the woman had a knack for lifting his mood. Despite the hardships she faced, these motherly tactics remained, unperturbed by the stresses of the cosmos. 

Not a day went by where he wasn’t thankful to have her by his side. Both he and Havve treasured her companionship, perhaps more than they cared to admit. After living their lives without much thought, it was nice to have someone who truly cared about them. Those feelings of warmth and safety—they held it close to their hearts, both live and artificial.

What it meant to be loved—that silly mother taught them everything. 

“Sung? Are you listening to me?”

Avida’s urgent whisper yanked him from his thoughts, filling his fuzzy chest with unwelcomed dread. “What’s wrong?” he asked, darting his vision across the unfamiliar terrain. Instinctively, he moved closer to his friend, his muscles growing tense in preparation for the unseen threat. 

“You’re not going to believe me when I say this, but I think I hear . . . talking.” She pointed towards the source of the sound. Her arm perfectly lined up with a dusty path; a walking trail. “It’s somewhere up ahead. I don’t think you can hear them yet, but it’s there.” Her ears flickered rapidly. “There’s no mistaking it—I hear other beings!”

“Impossible. This place can’t have already established a language. There's no way!”

“Say what you will, but I know I’m right.” She began walking towards the distant chatter. “I want to get a closer look.”

Sung quickly grabbed her arm. “Don’t do anything rash,” he hissed. “We don’t know the first thing about these beings. For all we know, they could be dangerous!” 

Avida shook her head, swivelling her ears so she could get a better listen. “No, I don’t think so. They sound young; not yet an adult, but certainly not a child. Somewhere in between.” Despite Sung’s warnings, she slithered her way out of his grasp and followed the winding path, looking back with a confident spark in her dark eyes. “I just want to look. We don’t have to interact or anything, okay? Just one teeny peak.”

“Avida, I really don’t think—”

“Don’t start mothering me, Sung. You know damn well that’s my job,” she scoffed. 

When she noticed Sung lagging behind, she rolled her eyes and heaved a large sigh, running back to grab a hold of his scarf so she could drag him towards the unknown voices. No matter how much he protested, he couldn’t shake the woman’s grasp, forced to endure the awkward run he could hardly match.

“Seriously,” she teased, her red-hot excitement drowning out Sung’s hesitancy. “You need to learn how to keep up!”

**• • •**

When the two beings found the source of the commotion, they could hardly believe what they saw.

Hidden on the outskirts of the forest, the two watched from the shadows as the strange event began to unfold. Glaring lights were erected above a large platform, each one pointing towards a specific section of the floor. Some were white, while others were constantly changing between random shades, flicking back and forth without much thought. They seemed to be practicing an odd dance. For what purpose, Sung had yet to deduce. 

The lights weren’t the only curious thing. The two watched as multiple beings moved in quick concession, wheeling different objects onto the platform and assembling them on the spot. Some of these objects were already complete, their shiny forms left to sit on various stands while the crew went to work elsewhere. From far away it was difficult to distinguish the shapes, but a quick test from one of the beings confirmed the doctor’s suspicions.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he awed. “It’s a music gathering!”

While he spoke, a series of unorganized notes rang through the empty clearing, each one sounding vastly different from the rest. The electric twang of a guitar, the startling rasp of a drum, the deep rumble of a bass, the fascinating chime of a synth—it was all there. It had been a while since he had heard any of these instruments, so it was no doubt a shock when he learned of their existence in the First Dimension. How did these inventions slip through the cracks of time?

“I had a hand in creating those,” he said, pointing towards the glistening red guitar on stage. “It was a few million years ago, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. Oh! The drums and bass too. Not to mention the synth, one of my personal favourites—”

“Yes, yes, I know all about your inventions. I just assume that everything in the universe has some sort of connection to you.” Avida seemed unimpressed by her companion’s words, prompting him to lower his posture to a more modest height. “So, what’s the point? It’s a place where beings huddle around and listen to some noise?”

“Exactly, though it’s usually considered to be pleasant. Judging by the size of this venue, I think we’ve just stumbled across an outdoor concert.” Sung smiled and placed his fingers below his chin, seeming deep in thought. “Well done, planet. You actually managed to have some redeeming qualities afterall.”

“It’s nothing dangerous then?” Avida asked, a hopeful lift wrapping around her words.

“Nope, perfectly harmless,” responded Sung, grinning in amusement. “A stellar discovery.”

“Sounds interesting,” mused Avida, preparing to leave the security of the bush. Before she had a chance to stand, she was pulled down by Sung’s quick hand. She looked over with confused frown. “What? Since it’s harmless, we can take a closer look, right? I thought we decided that nothing here was dangerous.”

“You’re right, but we can’t just saunter up like we own the place. Take a look at those beings,” he pointed towards the lifeforms in the distance, taking note of their physical features and stature. “They don’t have a Lexicomm—none of them do. I don’t think they’ve reached that milestone yet. We can understand them with our technology, but that leaves us without a way to communicate in our own language. It’d just be a confusing interaction for both parties.”

Avida let out a sigh. “I guess you’re right. So what now? Do we just sit here and wait for something cool to happen?”

Sung nodded. He glanced at the darkening sky, then to the rapidly forming crowds in the distance. Judging by the increased excitement and ruckus, he could only assume that the show would begin a little after nightfall. Since they were hidden in the forest, there wasn’t any danger of being discovered by any passing lifeforms, nor was there the risk of having to pay to see the event up close. A huge bonus in his opinion. 

He grinned to himself, a wave of giddiness washing through his chest. He wanted to see what this planet had to offer.

“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” he laughed. His sudden carefree attitude caught Avida off guard, but she soon found herself wrapped up in his same eagerness, her eyes going wide with anticipation, the thought of seeing something new setting her core ablaze. 

For the sake of both of them, Sung had to gently persuade her to keep her coat over her chest. Avida grimaced at the idea, but followed his orders nonetheless. Having her gem covered was an uncomfortable experience, but the promise of this so-called concert was enough to melt away her worries, especially when the first note crashed across the clearing one second after nightfall.

With no time to react, Sung jumped at the startling noise, thinking a vessel’s engine had exploded on the stage. Thankfully, there was no such catastrophe, only the electrifying shriek of a high strung guitar, the pounding of a drum set, and the wicked thunder of a bass. He could feel his heart tremble in time with the foreign rhythm, beating from exhilaration, and squeezing from terrible guilt the moment he glanced at his companion.

Poor Avida had both her hands pressed to her ears in a feeble attempt to block out the noise. Although they were at a distance from the stage, the sound was much more intense for her than it was for Sung. He could see her grit her teeth, her eyes shut in reaction to the pain. 

“Stars alive!” she yelled over the racket. “I thought you said this was supposed to be enjoyable!” Despite her agony, she still managed to keep her voice light. She coughed out a forced laugh, trying her best to ease the panic within Sung’s chest.

Sung jumped into action immediately, hissing an apology when he was forced to remove her hands from her ears. She winced when another round of notes penetrated the night. With swift fingers, he removed the Lexicomm from her ears and quickly fiddled with the settings, pocking, prodding, and implementing a series of obscure commands. He hoped this makeshift setting would save his friend’s hearing in time.

Without a moment to lose, he placed the Lexicomm back into Avida’s ears, breathing a sigh of relief when her face began to soften, her twisted, pained expressions wiped from her features. Her ears fluttered rapidly, surprised to find that they could endure the loud notes. Now that she could hear the music for what it was, she gasped and held her hands over her shimmering core, conscious of the fact that light was beginning to filter through her coat. 

She couldn’t help it—she was ecstatic. 

“This is incredible!” she shouted over the music. She bounced up and down, unable to contain her delight. It flowed from her like a torrential river, dousing the clearing in an aura of wonderment. Her emotions were intoxicating, their potency nearly sending Sung toppling to the ground. It was impossible to ignore her passions, so he gladly joined in on the fun. 

They hollered from the sidelines, caring not if the world’s inhabitants heard them. They cheered, whistled, whooped and screamed, daring for their voices to be heard over the music. Overtaken by the need to move, Sung invited Avida into a deranged dance, the two of them laughing up a storm as they tried to express their joy through an absurd gambol. The crew on stage had no idea of their existence, simply playing their songs for the adoring fans in front of them—they probably didn’t know they had attracted two additional fans in the forest, ones of cosmic origin no less. 

Each song sent chills down Sung’s spine, fuelled by the tingling notes of their electrifying tunes and the insane energy the crowd was giving off. He looked over at Avida with a smile, then proceeded to laugh the loudest he had ever done.

Avida turned to her friend with a crazed smile, still reeling from the adrenaline of the concert. “What’s so funny?” she snickered, tilting her head to observe her cackling companion. 

“Nothing! I’m just having the time of my life!” Another bout of laughter filtered through his chest. “This music, the lively atmosphere. . . . On this tiny little rock is where it all resides. How crazy is that? If we hadn’t landed here, I never would’ve given this place a second chance! Now,” he let out a satisfied sigh, “I think I’ve found my favourite dimension.” 

“What? The Fifth isn’t good enough for you?” teased Avida, lightly punching him in the arm. “Nah, I feel you. This is the most fun I’ve had in awhile. I’m glad we crashed here, I really am. It’s a nice change of pace after what we’ve been through.”

Sung agreed, then turned his attention back towards the show. He let her words linger in his mind, thinking back to all the pain and strife they had faced during their short time together. 

Three years. In three years, they had been on a quest worthy of multiple lifespans. The challenges they faced, the dangers, the perils, the overwhelming fear—it consumed them, plaguing their thoughts at every waking moment. Changing their fates—could it be done?

Could they bring back the stars? Was it even possible? This future—the one Avida promised to bring forth—could they make it a reality? She had promised a world of happiness, a place where the darkness no longer ruled. Free of pain, void of fear; could they do it? 

Was there enough room for him in this new world?

“Ah! Stars alive, you scared me, Havve!”

Avida’s gasp jostled Sung from his thoughts, a welcomed intrusion from the claustrophobic mindset he had been trapped in. To his side, he found Havve’s static form standing near Avida, his scarlet gaze narrowed in silent guilt. He issued a quick apology for his sudden appearance. 

“I didn’t expect you to join us here,” explained Avida. “I thought you didn’t want to explore this place?”

“Originally, I was less than willing to see this realm,” Havve said. He tilted his head towards the origin of sound. “Then I felt a massive shift in both of your moods. It was enough to peak my interests.” 

“Pftt, scared we’d have fun without you?”

Havve said nothing, simply keeping his gaze locked on the distant celebration. He stayed quiet, though his unsteady tempo spoke louder than words.

Avida flashed a knowing smile. “You’re just in luck, Hogan. They’re getting ready for the last few songs. C’mon, hoist me up so I can get a better look.”

Within moments, she was swept from the ground and gently placed atop Havve’s shoulders, using her new found height to her advantage as her voice carried through the wind, across the clearing, and into the distant crowd. With her as their guide, Sung howled at the top of his lungs, loudly proclaiming his love for the music of this incredible dimension. After only hearing a few songs, Havve was gladly clicking his jaw in agreement, finding as much enjoyment in this realm as his companions did. 

They swayed to the music, they cheered their voices raw, they laughed until their sides hurt—they captured this memory, holding it close to their cores, hearts, and artificial life sources. They all shared the same joy. 

It only made sense, Sung decided, that they could share the same promised future as well.

When it came time for the encore, Sung found himself singing along. He turned to Avida with a jovial grin, only to melt into an adoring smirk. He motioned for Havve’s attention, then flicked his hand towards the darkened forest. With a gentle nod, Havve followed the doctor’s quiet stride, remaining mindful of the slumbering presence around his shoulders, her breathing merely a whisper in this strange, yet admittedly beautiful, world.

**• • •**

“There you are. What took you so long, Sung?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault. You wouldn’t believe the line up!”

After bringing Avida back to the clearing, the two beings were prepared to retire for the night. They cut their vessels’ power sources and hid them as well as they could, attempting to minimize the chance of an unwanted discovery. They both agreed it would be a disastrous way to start their night. After expressing so much adamance for remaining hidden, it was a shock for Havve to learn that Sung wanted to engage with the population.

“Nothing bad happened,” Sung explained once he came back. “A lot of the beings were nice when I showed up. They were laughing, talking to me, complimenting my attire. . . . Of course, they didn’t understand a single word I said, but they didn’t seem to mind too much. They assumed I was from out of town. Something about my accent; ‘Canadian’ they called it?” Sung shrugged. “The point is, I got what I wanted without any issue.”

Havve rolled his eyes. “Well, I hope it was worth it,” he warned, his tone low and disapproving. “Mingling with other lifeforms is risky business, especially those with a lower understanding than us. Our presence could cause unwanted chaos if we’re not careful. What was so important for you to retrieve?”

Sung grinned at his partner. He quickly unravelled the bundle of fabric he was holding, flicking it open with a frivolous snap. He beamed with an air of accomplishment. “I had to get a souvenir! There’s no way I’m leaving without something to remind me of this night.” He held the garment in front of his chest and looked up expectantly. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy,” Havve scoffed. “All that for a piece of clothing? What does it even say on the front? Looks like some scribbled mess to me.”

Sung shrugged. “I’ve no clue, but it has something to do with the musicians we heard playing. Did you know my outfit was similar to theirs? A lot of the inhabitants kept commenting on the resemblance.”

“Huh. Must be a coincidence,” Havve mulled, feeling less and less interested as the conversation went on. He didn’t care much for clothing. There were much more pressing matters at hand. “You must have noticed by now, right? When you look at the sky, what do you see?”

Sung was already rolling his shirt into a bundle. He didn’t look up when he spoke. 

“I saw them,” he said. “Thankfully, I don’t think Avida noticed their presence while we were watching the show; the lights must’ve hidden them from our view.” He shook his head dolefully. “I was hopeful at first. It seemed too good to be true. But it only took one glance for me to realize that they’re not the same as our own. These stars lack life—they aren’t alive. I don’t think they’ve ever been.”

“If they were, Avida would’ve sensed them right away, yes?”

Sung nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. Our solution doesn’t reside in another dimension, but thankfully, it seems our problem hasn’t spread to the others either.” He cast his gaze to the stars above, feeling no connection to their charmless forms. “How long until we get our engines running again?”

“I can’t say for certain,” said Havve. “But I’m working as fast as I can. I don’t want, you know . . . I don’t want Avida to—”

“Yeah, me neither, buddy. I don’t know how she’ll react if she sees them. It’ll probably be a shock, then a depressing reminder of what’s missing from our own realm. These stars won’t answer her calls. I don’t want to imagine the pain it’ll cause.” Sung turned to Havve, his voice hushed, brought down by a serious urgency. “We need to get out of here before the next nightfall.”

“Understood. I’ll work all night if I have to.”

“I’ll join you. If we start working now, the two of us should have the engines fixed by tomorrow afternoon.”

“If we do get the repairs done in time, how will you explain our early departure?” asked Haave. “She’s very smitten with this world, and she houses a lot of interest in exploring this dimension. She seems dead set on spending the remainder of our break here.”

“I’ll think of something,” Sung hissed. “But that’s the least of our worries right now. Help me with the repairs, will you? All this talking is wasting our time.” 

Havve bobbed his head in agreement, effectively ending their conversation before it could go any further. The two beings worked through the night, neither uttering a word as they slaved over the busted engines, desperately searching for a way to get their technology up and functioning in time for daylight. 

No matter what, they couldn’t risk their companion discovering this dimension’s secret. She had already experienced devastating heartbreak, a pain that no living being should ever endure, let alone twice. The sky was lonely—it was dead, a sight that would only bring sorrow.

Sung wouldn’t allow it to break her. After everything she had done for him, this was the least he could do. He didn’t like lying to her, but he saw no other option. Within his troubled chest, he hoped she would understand his reasons, acknowledging the kindness it stemmed from. Withholding the truth was wrong, but it was the best way to protect the one he cared for the most.

**• • •**

With one glance, he knew. If not the hair and feathered ears, then certainly the vibrant core beneath his cloak, fluttering from the fright the Brigade had inflicted upon him.

“What’s a Moebian like you doing so far out in the cosmos?”

Sung hadn’t meant for those words to come tumbling out, but in his shell-shocked state, nothing could be contained. Each syllable, and the recognition they held, felt like fire against his tongue. It burned. It sent waves of anguish rolling through his throat as he spilled the memories of his past.

It shouldn’t be possible. Her kind wasn’t fit for travel through the cosmos, so how had one of her people broken through the stratosphere? A mere child, nonetheless. Had her eleven year absence sparked their desire to explore beyond their realm? I didn’t seem likely, so how was he here? And why?

Despite not being able to see—a curious aliment, one that Sung would address once he had calmed down—the child appeared to pick up on his unease, looking towards him with a surprised expression.

“You know about my home?” he asked, his voice housing the same rich tones that Avida had. How old was this Moebian? He wasn’t even an adult yet; he still possessed the spark of his youth, as was evident by his brilliant core. 

Sung eyed the gem closely, taken aback by its unwavered shine. This species relied on starlight to keep their cores alive, so why did this child seem unaffected by their loss? Without their precious starlight, Moebians were doomed to fall beneath their weakness—even Avida’s light began to weaken as the years progressed. Why was this child the exception?

“Sung. . .” 

The doctor flinched, refusing to take his eyes off the strange child. He could already feel the unease stirring through the robot’s circuits. “Don’t jump to that conclusion, Havve,” he said, keeping their conversation confined within their minds. “He’s a Moebian, yes, but that doesn’t mean anything, okay? There’s no way that . . .”

He cut his conversation short, keeping their mysterious guest in the loop by verbally explaining themselves. It was tough to multitask both forms of communication, but he managed. Unfortunately, more dread began to stack when he learned about the child’s predicament. He was injured, blinded by the sun, and extremely wary of them, much to Sung’s displeasure. He felt a pang of guilt swamp his chest, realizing they were to blame for these reactions. 

Even coaxing the child to their ship was a difficult task. He was terrified of them. Resistant in every sense. He was especially scared of Havve, claiming that the robot had somehow injured him while he was flying his vessel. If that were the case, then what kind of technology had this child gotten his hands on? What he described sounded mythical, almost god-like. 

“He doesn’t want to come with us,” said Havve. “He must be fairly new to the cosmos if our presence startles him. No Lexicomm either.” They watched as Meouch began to pester the child, earning an abrasive response in return.

Within their silent link, Havve stifled an amused laugh. “This one has some fight in him. Reminds me of—” he paused. Then, he dragged his scarlet eyes towards Sung, his tone much more serious than before. “Sung, I know you don’t want to consider the possibility, but we have to acknowledge that something isn’t right. This child, I can’t shake the feeling. Something is drawing me in. His presence—it’s blinding.

“I know you’ve noticed it. His core, it still has life; a spark that rivals the stars. His vessel reminds me of Avida’s descriptions. She worked on her ship in secret, yes? So who else would have seen its designs? Why would this child know what it looked like?”

Sung shook his head, a dull ache beginning to pound behind his vision. “That can’t be it. This thing doesn't seem to be of their world. There has to be another explanation.”

“Fine, we can avoid that mystery for now. But what about the child himself? His resemblance to Avida is striking.” Havve cast his gaze towards the boy, watching him interact with their cat-like companion. The two beings seemed to be getting riled up. “Sung, I think that child might be—”

“Enough!” Sung silenced his partner, quickly taking control of their link. “It can’t be him. I won’t believe it! Avida entrusted this mission to us so we could save her realm and bring the stars back to her child. To even suggest that we’ve endangered her son is . . .” He grit his teeth. “I won’t be the cause of his death too. That child is _not_ him. It’s impossible!” 

He turned away from Havve, only to feel one of his graspers hold him in place. The doctor glared at his partner. “What do you—?”

Havve’s grip nearly crushed Sung’s shoulder, his pressure unconsciously increasing as he listened to the young Moebian’s resentful cries.

“My name isn’t ‘kid’!” the boy began. 

At that moment, time seemed to stop in the clearing. A hysteric drumming filled Havve’s chest, his circuits snapping into place as a new protocol surfaced beneath the boy’s presence. Dreadful sensations coiled their way around his composer, reminding him of the terrible toll that came with having emotions in the first place. 

Feeling the colour drain from his face, Sung let out a silent plea. He felt his hands begin to tremble. His heart felt suffocated by the anguish in his chest. _Stars alive, no. Please don’t do this to me again._

Sung’s anguish, its sharp bitterness, was revolting; why did the cosmos find so much joy in torturing him? He lamented beneath the endless cosmos, his pitiful world crashing down the moment the child confirmed his fabled identity.

“It’s _Strive!_ ”

**• • • • •**

_Alstroemeria symbolizes friendship, love, strength, happiness, and devotion. Thought to represent mutual support, these flowers are associated with braving the hardships of life together, having each other's backs no matter the trials and tribulations one may face. A bloom that flourishes under loyalty and trust._

 __

_**• • • • •** _


	5. Chains of the Fallen

He played the steps in his mind without missing a beat, singing them over and over like an anxious riddle. He had to concentrate, lest he risk making a fool of himself in front of all these onlookers.

_Back straight, shoulders down. Head up high—no, not that high. Keep your stride quick and polished, and avoid tripping at all costs. Keep your gaze forward and disregard any unnecessary distractions._

Don’t look away, keep your eyes on the path . . . 

He continued walking down the road, chilled by the unnatural silence that accompanied him wherever he went. No one dared to breathe in front of him, nor raise their eye to meet his form. Everyone was stricken by his presence. They were afraid. 

Terrified of him, the upcoming Deimos.

The city’s entire population was here, offering their presence as a symbol of respect and unwavered loyalty. They kept their bodies pressed to the ground, bowing before the young warrior. They gave themselves to the presence of royalty, offering their complete and utter devotion in the form of their quiet submission. 

Through his peripherals, he caught a glimpse of the sickening sight, his heart twisting in disgust when he realized he was the cause for such a fearful reaction. He felt nauseous when he thought about what he’d become at the end of the ceremony.

He cursed his blue-blooded fate. 

Within his mind, he hastily replayed the sound of his voice in a desperate attempt to remember its unique cadence. He played with each sound he had gained since birth, mimicking their different tones like a depressed mantra. He didn’t want to give up his voice. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a say in the matter—quite literally. 

His fate was controlled since his birth, his path laid out in a clear, decisive line. As son of the noble family, he was unable to escape the traditions of his people. He might have been able to avoid this disastrous fate if he had any siblings to pass the burden onto. Then he could have become something else. He could have kept his name.

He approached the platform and bowed his head with sullen obedience, hiding his face so he could mouth his name one last time. He said it slowly, feeling his vocal chords reject the motion. It hurt to speak, but he couldn’t give up, not until he was satisfied with his final words. He whispered through the pain, hissing his true identity into the covetous winds.

Within moments, it was gone. Reduced to a clean slate.

He grimaced, feeling a rolling anguish fester deep within his chest. He wanted to cry, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He was of noble-blood—there were no tears for his kind. Blue-bloods didn’t lament, neither did the esteemed Deimos. 

It was a sacred position, one that had no use for any sort of terrestrial language. The Deimos would be trained in both mind and body, honing their skills until they were immune to the burdens of emotion and pain. This role was rigorous and not for the faint of heart, nor was it suitable for any normal being. No, it was a position that could only be held by those with regal attributes. 

What better candidate was there than the young Lord of their realm.

He was deemed exceptional at birth, thought to possess an unbelievable intellect and a steadfast soul. His people rejoiced at the news, celebrating his birth with renewed hope. After decades of struggling to keep their country in power, the promise of a new Deimos sent them into a frenzy. They had been waiting for this day for years—to witness the vow of silence was a marvelous sight.

For the Deimos, it was a reminder of his stolen freedom.

As he bowed before the royal family, he felt his body shiver from his despair, his fists clenched tightly into the sandy grounds. The ceremony progressed without any regard for his feelings, celebrating his noble destiny and stripping him of his autonomy. He was reduced to an asset of the realm, a simple tool for them to control. He was draped in numerous fabrics, adorned with different medals, and feathered with unwanted praise, the speakers oblivious to the anguish their voices caused him. 

He didn’t ask for this role—he never wanted this terrible fate. 

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, his hopes were extinguished by the final aspect of the ceremony. Having his voice stolen was heartbreaking enough. To lose his identity was almost impossible to bear. 

Bound to the commands of the Majesties, he was stripped of all his familial ties, recognized as nothing more than the property of their realm. He could hardly breath, nearly suffocating beneath the horrifying verdict. He fought the urge to look his parents—no, these _beings_ —in the eye, swallowing the betrayal that charred his soul. How could they have done something so cruel? Was that all he was to them? A means to their future success? 

At what point did they start seeing him as a weapon and not their son?

The fanfare in the background overshadowed the Deimos’ heartbreak, its sonorous flair failing to calm the aches within his hollow chest.

**• • •**

He woke in a fiery panic, consumed by trembles, nausea, and a sickening dread, squeezing his chest with its foul grasp. He gasped for breath in the pitch black room, the muggy air doing more harm than good for the shaken warrior. It stuck to him, clinging like the chains around his freedom. After a few coarse breaths, he finally managed to calm down, though his waking life had no shortage of the same despair he encountered in his dreams.

He lay motionless in the dark room, still reeling from his frightening ordeal. The thunder in his chest was still on a rampage, trudging through his body with their unpleasant hooves. They dug into him without remorse, bruising him from the inside out and leaving him tender from the pain. Everyday, these foul emotions wrecked him. There was no escape; he had given up the thought long ago.

With a shuddering sigh, he pushed himself from his sleeping quarters and began navigating through the darkness, reaching out and dragging his fingertips across each surface, studying their familiar feel. This room, he did not know what it looked like, but he had gained an impression after spending countless years confined within its walls. He knew there was a bed and a spot for his attire, but not much more. It was a small room, built from light-swallowing bricks and packed with cement to discourage any unwanted stimuli from seeping through.

It was a small, dark, and void of sound. It was the Deimos’ chambers. 

He traced his fingertips across the walls, counting their lines and feeling their sharp tooth, delicately scratching his nails against the surface in an attempt to emulate a sound. There was nothing, as per usual. Everything remained shrouded, damped by mundane madness. There was nothing to gain from this place. Nothing except one's thoughts.

The Deimos’ chambers were considered a sacred place, one that could not afford any sort of outside distractions. It was built specifically for the Deimos in order to hone their skills: control, patience, and wisdom. These were the traits the honoured Deimos possessed—the requirements that held him in his glorified prison cell. 

He thought back to his dream from this morning, replaying the same cry within his mind. _I never wanted this,_ he lamented. _I never chose this cruel fate. Why me? Why did this have to happen?_

He lightly tapped his throat, cursing the way it stung whenever he mouthed his silent woes. After all these years, the pain never left him. The ceremony was irreversible, as was his destiny.

There was nothing he could do.

With sullen steps, he traced the walls towards his attire, grimacing when he felt their familiar material. They were uncomfortable to wear, yet necessary for his departure. The rules of their society deemed it an offence to gaze upon the esteemed Deimos without his regalia, the punishment often resulting in the death of the onlooker. 

_Such a terrible sentence,_ he thought somberly. 

It had been years since he had actually seen himself. He wondered how much his appearance had changed. Did he still resemble his youth, or had he gained different attributes? He was curious and yearned for the chance to see himself, but the choice was not his. Everyone, including himself, was forbidden from catching a glimpse of the fabled Deimos, lest they face certain death.

 _A terrible sentence?_ he questioned. _No, perhaps it would be a blessing._

He shook these thoughts from his head at once, heaving a great sigh as he went to dress himself in his sacred attire. He clasped himself into his cover, meticulously securing each section of his restrictive armour with a swift hand. He pulled up his boots, shifting their fur-lined tips just below his knees, and did the same with his gloves, mimicking the same procedure. He placed heavy metal plates onto his shoulders and traced the ferocious design that was engraved on the surface. The next part was difficult, but doable nonetheless. Picking up a long red sash, he swung it around his shoulders, letting both edges fall behind him with a ghostly sigh. Once his body was fully covered, he prepared himself for the last step.

Grimacing, he picked up the final piece of his chains—the helmet. He loathed this object with all his being. Running his gloves over the surface, he could feel each groove of the despicable muzzle, painting its vile image through his reluctant touch.

It possessed frightening points at the top of its head, capable of slicing anything upon contact. It cradled a blood-red crista between its spikes, inviting the cloth to fall behind the wearer’s back. The face offered total coverage, save for the angular slits that allowed the being inside a merciful glimpse of daylight. The rest of the helmet was sealed, shamelessly adorned with a stylized maw, one of a terrifying beastie. 

Passed down for countless generations, the Deimos mask functioned on bringing fear to all those who gazed upon it. While nothing more than a harmless helmet, the article exuded a devastating fear, going so far as to torment the one trapped within.

That’s how he felt—trapped. Terrified, alone, and unspeakably bitter. 

Knowing his emotions would do him no good, he gave into the task he was forced to uphold, placing the helmet over his face and snuffing out any sense of hope he possessed. He heard the familiar click of his mask as it secured itself in place, keeping the wearer obscured until they returned to their prescribed darkness. 

Heaving a silent wail, he dragged his dead eyes towards the doors of his prison, watching as precious light crawled onto the grey floors, taunting him with its unobtainable warmth.

**• • •**

The last being to see his face was sentenced to death.

It was in his earliest years of becoming the Deimos, a time when he was just starting to understand the burden that came with his unwanted role. 

Since he was still young, the royal family had allowed some slack when it came to his training, though he was still bound to the rules of his position. He couldn’t talk, nor could he show his face to any of his mentors. While not as restrictive as his helmet, he was still forced to hide his features beneath a veil, one that allowed him to see his surroundings, but blocked his face from the outside world. Compared to the prison he had to endure in his present life, this juvenile option was considerably humane.

He remembered the man’s face—strange was the best way to describe it. He also remembered his kindness; it was incredibly foreign to the young Deimos.

Assigned as his instructor, the man was tasked with teaching him the ways of the Deimos. Ancient rules had to be followed, adhering to the traditions of his people and the expectations that came with his role. He was taught to banish his emotions and gain a sense of clarity, separating himself from the tainted souls of their society. Their people were blighted, a lower breed, he was told. Only the Deimos could achieve a purity of mind.

He and his mentor would work together in a quiet room, one that was secluded from any unwanted onlookers. A room of peace and tranquillity. A place where they could focus and hone in on the spiritual calm beneath his earthly binds. Yes—spiritual clarity, wisdom, control; these were of great importance to their culture.

Attributes the man had no interest in properly teaching.

His mentor played the part well and preached the will of their society with perfect cadence, managing to fool those within the tight knit circle of the blue-bloods. His real mission, however, was to comfort the child he held great pity for. A rarity among their people, he bore the name Eidos.

Eidos spoke of wonders beyond their realm. Fields of flowers, hidden emerald grottos, endless seas, and treacherous snowy peaks, all of which sounded much more desirable than the sandy mounds they colonized. When asked how he knew all this, Eidos simply laughed.

“When I was young, not much older than you,” he had explained, “I took the first ship off this dreadful planet. I couldn’t stand it here. Our people thrive on upholding their culture, claiming it to be the only way of living. They willingly surrender themselves to the blue-bloods, believing their rule to be that of a glorious dynasty. In reality, it's nothing more than a sham. A corrupt, selfish monarchy that’ll do anything for their own success.” 

He cast his pitch back eyes towards the young Deimos, his grizzled features softening in sympathy. “They’d even sacrifice their only child if it meant upholding their power. But you’re quite familiar with that, eh, My Lord?”

With no way of responding, the young Deimos simply nodded his obscured head.

“When I heard that the dynasty was reviving the role of Deimos, I came back to this world and offered my services to the blue-bloods. Although I hadn’t stepped foot on this planet for decades, they were eager to accept me on account of my outerworld experiences. The deemed me wise, both due to my age and my familiarity with the outside world.” Eidos scoffed. “Those fools. It was because of my experience that I realized how appalling this society is.”

The man shook his head. “Your parents—pardon me, the _Majesties_ —are heartless fools. To cast you aside as mere property of the regime, to have the audacity to strip you of your freedom, to make you a slave beneath their greed—” Eidos’s voice shook. “It’s unforgivable. And for what? An intimidation tactic? To make other worlds fear their ‘power’? They’d happily turn you into a killing machine if it meant solidifying their reputation! Despicable creatures . . .

“And this ‘wisdom’ they preach—it’s a method of torture. A way to break you down and turn you into a blank slate. They want to take away your emotions, My Lord. So you won’t be able to feel the pains they cause, nor the life they have denied you. It’s sickening. Revolting!”

Throughout his speech, Eidos moved his arms in an animated fashion, physically calling his emotions into his body. The way he flailed his arms, twitched his fingers, signed his frustration—it was beautifully alive. Something the young Deimos hadn’t felt for some time. 

He gently placed a hand on Eidos’ shoulder, offering a reassuring pat. He tried to smile through the veil, but he knew no one would see it.

“Ah, my apologies, My Lord. It would seem I let my emotions get the better of me.” Eidos heaved a large sigh, then relaxed his shoulders. He began taking deep breaths, forcing his frustrated lungs to expel their heated fumes. When he was done, he looked towards the young Deimos. “See, this is why they wish to cleanse you of your emotions. One may become rash and inconsolable if given the chance to act on their desires, a quality they dread in weapons like yourself.”

A moment of silence passed between the two beings. Then, it was broken by a sudden plea, one that left Eidos’ chest in quiet desperation.

“Please, My Lord, never let them break you. Never surrender yourself to these monsters. There may come a time in your future where the chance to escape arises. I need you to stay strong until that day. Even when I’m gone . . .” he raised his hand to calm the young Deimos’ panic. “You and I both know I can’t stay here forever. Sooner or later they’ll catch on to me and assign a new mentor, one that’ll actually follow the hideous rules of our society. And when that day comes, I need you to persevere. Never lose yourself, My Lord. Never give in to the chains of your role—your destiny is not set in stone. Your fate can be changed, I just know it.”

Eidos let his words echo through the empty room, their weight lingering in the stagnant air around them. 

“Ah, I’ve gone and spoiled the mood. How rude of me.” Eidos reached for something by his side, rummaging through the bag he often brought during their unorthodox lessons. Upon seeing the familiar cover, the young Deimos felt his heart stir. “Aha, I knew this would please you. Do you still remember what I taught you yesterday?”

The young Deimos nodded his head eagerly.

“Perfect,” Eidos chuckled. “Tell you what: if we finish with enough time to spare, I’ll tell you an old legend I heard during my travels, one about the stars above. The being who told me claimed to be from another dimension, said they got marooned after a malfunction with their ship, whatever that means. Now then, where did we leave off . . . ?” 

Eidos motioned for the youth’s presence, inviting him to stare over his shoulder as he went through the contents of the book in his hands. The man found his place and began reading the latest chapter, reciting each word with ease and perfection. He explained the inner workings of his practice, explaining the nitty-gritty of his past trade in great detail. At times, it was almost too much to take in at once, but the young Deimos was driven to understand this complex field of study, hopefully to the point of mastery. 

Eidos was more than willing to share his passions with the boy, especially since it held so much usefulness with regards to travel through the cosmos. The goal was to teach him in the ways of repair and creation—he would house the knowledge of an engineer, a skill that would one day become his salvation.

With this in mind, Eidos read a little faster and with increased urgency in the hopes of speeding up the process. He didn’t know how much longer he could be there for the boy, especially with the secret he harboured in his chest. It had upset the young Deimos tremendously, but he didn’t care. He had already lived his life to the fullest, now it was time to give that chance to someone else.

“I need to know you’re getting all this, My Lord. Relax, you’re in the company of friends.”

To his side, the young Deimos nodded. With a hesitant hand, he dragged his fingers across the obscuring veil and yanked it from his face, flashing his beloved mentor a genuine smile.

**• • •**

What started as a quiet day quickly turned into a horrific bloodbath, one that painted the streets in a sickly scarlet wash.

The frantic crowds rushed through the streets of their crumbling city, darting past debris, flames, and the bodies of recently slain citizens. The townsfolk cowered in alleyways, watching with tear-stained eyes as the bandits advanced without mercy, heckling those unfortunate enough to lose their footing during the chase. The bandits would take turns deciding what they should do to each snivelling whelp they came across. Some chose to take their money, others revelled in the idea of taking their lives. 

There were no warnings. No signs that the bandits were going to attack.

They appeared in a unified swarm, thrusting their ships through the stratosphere and onto the sandy lands below. Wasting no time for ogling onlookers, the bandits charged for the streets like ravenous animals, snarling in their beastial tongues and clacking their fangs in delight as they ransacked the entire city, deriving unspeakable pleasure from the chaos they caused. And the riches they possessed—it was every pirate’s dream. 

When word got out about the ambush, the blue-bloods were quick to send their soldiers into battle, believing they could salvage their wounded land. They sent their troops into the line of fire, ordering them to dispose of as many pirates as they possibly could. Unfortunately, these bandits wielded advanced weapons, some of which had yet to be discovered by their ancient society. 

The soldiers struck their attackers with their javelins, only to watch them break beneath the pressure of the pirates’ glowing blades. Their retaliation was met with amused laughter from the bandits, then sputtering breaths as the soldier’s quickly adapted to their disadvantages, finding creative ways to best the creatures in battle. On both sides, it was an all out war, each faction desperate to reclaim the high ground. 

For a while, it seemed that neither side would budge. All that changed when the Deimos arrived. 

On silent wings, he flew into battle with a devastating force, hacking, slashing, and gutting their enemies with a swift flick of his wrist. Despite the heavy armour his wore, he remained agile and light on his feet, managing to sneak between the shadows and strike when least expected. All around him, the pirates fell to their knees, never to rise again. Their bodies began to pile the streets like stones, each of them secreting their own ruby rivers.

At such a triumphant sight, the Deimos felt sick to his stomach.

When the tides were in their favour, the Deimos left the rest of his troops to fend off any remaining bandits. The expectation was that he was too esteemed to trouble himself with the lingering grunt work. In reality, he just needed to get away. 

_Back straight, shoulders down . . ._

From the confinements of his helmet, he looked to the sides and saw how the people praised him, sinking their bodies to the ground and mumbling their thanks, completely submerged in their submissive song. The way they worshiped him sent chills down his spine.

_Head up high . . . no, not that high. . . ._

He placed his gloves around his neck, scratching at the helmet that kept him imprisoned. He dug his nails into the metal, hoping he could somehow pry himself free of his chains. He clawed the terrible mask in desperation, growing increasingly disturbed beneath the wandering eyes of the townsfolk. Unable to stand their presence much longer, he fled into the nearby shadows, seeking solace from their burning eyes. 

He couldn’t take much more of this. And yet, he had no say. He was their Deimos—he was a slave to the blue-bloods, their influence much too powerful to resist. He was bound to them for the rest of his life. There was no way to escape, so why keep trying? Giving up seemed like a merciful sentence, one that held no pain, no torment, no freedom to think. He often wondered what would happen if he just . . . broke. 

Would it make his existence easier to endure? The suffering, would it finally leave?

All he needed was that final crack to seal his fate. He could feel it creeping through his soul, wriggling into the fragile breaks he had developed, and pulling them apart at the seams. He could feel it crumbling, deteriorating after all these years. His hope—it hung by a quivering thread. 

Then, he heard it. That break. That merciful, painless break he had been trying to avoid. He had been advised against it by his mentor, but none of that mattered now—Eitos wasn’t here to see his fall. He had already paid the price of his cursed role. With no more fight left in his soul, he quietly accepted his descent into nothingness with open arms, waiting to be wiped clean.

That’s when he realized his mistake. 

Something shifted around his neck. No, it _loosened._

Taken aback, the Deimos slowly brought his gloves to his neck, surprised to find he could nudge his fingertips between the grooves of his helmet. He gasped feverishly, overwhelmed by a sudden fit of hyperventilation. Urging his trembling hands to continue, he sunk his fingers into the gaps and pulled the helmet from his head, breathing in the blood-soaked air of his realm.

He let his lifelong tormenter crash to the ground.

Still catching his breath, the Deimos fell to the earth in disbelief. He palmed his neck, frantically tracing his fingers across his raw skin. What changed? Why, of all times, did his bonds finally loosen? He bit back a shuddering sob, trying to calm the euphoric dance within his chest. What did this mean for him? 

Hidden between the walls of the alley, the Deimos pressed himself into the shadows when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He cupped his hands over his mouth, wondering if they could hear him taking his unchained breaths. Pushing aside his anxieties, he listened to the soldiers across the lane, his legs nearly giving out when he heard the unthinkable news: 

They were dead. The ruling blue-bloods had been defeated. 

The Deimos felt a war within his chest. It battered his insides, grieving the loss of the ones he used to consider his family. Another part of him rejoiced, howling in delight as his torment came to its end. He could feel himself mouthing the words already, attempting to adapt to the foreign action. His heart fluttered with a hopeful lift. His shackles had been unlocked, did that mean—?

He traced his missing voice, remembering its unique tone, volume, and the youthful cadence it held. He tried to guide the words across his tongue, gently at first, then with an increased urgency when nothing appeared from his efforts. Growing frustrated, the Deimos tried to release a ferocious call, only to recoil from the scars of his past oath. 

In their deaths, the Majesties had given him back his freedom. However, they were undoubtedly selfish. Even in their final moments, they couldn’t bear to part without some form of treasure. In this case, they chose the Deimos’ voice, dragging it to the furthest crevice of their graves.

To know his voice had slipped between the cracks felt like a cruel joke. After all those years of silence, he was finally granted his freedom, only to remain locked in a state of irreversible mutism. What was he to do now?

 _Escape,_ he thought, unconsciously mouthing that beautiful, silky word. _Escape from this hellish world._

Newfound strength coursed through the Deimos’ veins, pumping his muscles full of adrenaline and unwavered poise. He placed a hand over his thundering heart, amazing by force that rocked his body and the volume it possessed. This feeling, it was intoxicating. The more he drank from the glass of autonomy, the drunker he became. He relished in the delicious high it gave him.

Daring to step from the shadows, the Deimos approached the edge of the alley with caution, feeling strangely exposed without his helmet. He flinched into the shade when a barrage of troops charged down the path, their irate calls reverberating from beneath their military-grade masks. The Deimos watched them with great interest, finding himself drawn into the simplistic design of the lesser warriors’ helmets. There were thousands of them littering the streets, the majority of them belonging to the recently deceased. As morbid as it was, it gave him a brilliant idea. 

Careful to remain out of sight, he snuck along the shadows of the walls and crept towards a fallen soldier, their motionless body splayed out on the dusty ground. Once he was within range, the Deimos gingerly tugged the red and gold helmet from their head, jumping back in horror when their misty eyes met his. 

Neither of them said a word on account of his own mutism and the dying man’s bubbled breath. The soldier dragged his pitch black eyes over the Deimos’ form, weakling sputtering through the shock. Even within the confines of the shadows, there was no way for him to avoid the man’s chilling gaze. 

In a few moments, the soldier's eyes rolled back into his head, signalling the end of his feeble life. The Deimos grimaced and tore his eyes away from the cooling corpse, putting on the helmet with a trembling motion. Even in the afterlife, the rule still stood:

Those who gazed upon the Deimos were sentenced to death.

Unable to mutter his sympathies to the deceased soldier, the Deimos turned his back on the battle and ran for the hills, marvelling at how light his footsteps felt and the speeds he attained. Throughout his run, he gladly began shedding his excess layers, first with that awful scarf, then with his heavy plates, tossing them to the ground in a most sacrilegious way. Fearing the possibility of being recognized, he travelled along the shadows of the crumbling buildings, sporting just enough armour to keep him safe in the event of an attack.

However, even without his esteemed regalia, he wasn’t a pushover by any means. All those years of combat training stuck close to his heart, sending his limbs into a quivering fury. When he was under the blue-bloods’ control, it was hard to subdue the instinct to fight; it was impossible for someone like him. His unwanted oath had more control over him than he cared to admit. 

Now that he was free, the urge was easier to quell, though it still lurked beneath the surface. He had a feeling it wouldn’t go away any time soon, but at least he could manage it. For someone who despised fighting, this control was a blessing to his naturally passive soul.

When he neared the city’s borders, he heard the deafening cry of a compromised engine. The Deimos cast his gaze to the clouds, watching as an indigo ship came crashing to the ground, nestling its form into the sands a few yards from where he stood. It landed on the empty plains, its thrusters sputtering pitifully from the mixture of smoke and sand it foolishly inhaled. The sparks from the engines were jumping across the dunes, threatening to set fire to the blades of grass that poked through the dusty sheet. 

The Deimos eyed the beast-like ship critically, hastily scanning the exterior for any visible damages. When he found none, he trained his hearing on the gurgled sound it produced, knowing exactly what had caused the engine to malfunction. A combination of stress from the heat and the interference of sand—these were basic ques to the aspiring mechanic. 

As he approached the ship, a brilliant idea came to him. Repairing the vessel would only take a few hours. If he could overwhelm its pilot and take control of their systems, there was a chance he could finally escape this doomed world. He was well aware of the biosecurity that most ships possessed, but he also knew of the grisly oversight one could abuse. He gulped, dreading the idea of dousing the ship in its pilots vitals. It was horrifying to think about, but the Deimos urged himself to persevere. 

This being’s death would be his long awaited salvation.

He darted for the vessel, brandishing his sword in preparation for the grim ritual. He had done it countless times before, though none had ever felt as cruel as this one. Even without his chains, was he still willing to follow in the ways of his dreaded title? To be a blank, heartless weapon? This thought chilled his centre, causing him to falter in his charge. He wanted to flee this place with every fiber in his being—he yearned for it, practically begging for its sweet taste. Now, he could only feel the bitter pith on his tongue. 

That, and the sting of his assailant’s claws slashing across his remaining armour.

The Deimos recoiled, swiftly rolling out of the way of the being’s heavy blow, narrowly missing another swipe from his gleaming nails. When he regained his composure, the Deimos took a moment to observe his attacker, taken aback by his crude appearance.

The beastie towered above him, sending a fanged smile in his direction. His navy pelt burned against the yellow sands, making him all the more coarse to look at. He wore a curious form of attire, one that proudly showed off his bristled coat through minimal coverage. Even his mane was presented with pride, the being having taken extra care in portraying his intimidating features, clasping his impressive locks behind a rose-coloured gem. Flexing his claws, the beastie growled something under his breath, his thin tail lashing through the sands in response.

“That all ya got, jackass?”

The Deimos felt his heart skip a beat. This beastie spoke their language? No, that wasn’t it. He tapped his helmet, noticing it was implemented with a universal translator. How lucky for him.

When the Deimos didn’t respond, the beastie snarled out a few more words. “What? Nothin’ to say? And here I thought I’d be gettin’ a good fight outta ya. Yer'e one of the only planets I've come across that has some spark to 'em. I was startin' to think crashin' into this dimension was a mistake. But here y'are, a civilization similar to those from the ulteriors.”

Confused by the creature's non-sensical drabble, The Deimos gripped his sword and took a warning step. He waved the beastie to the side, signalling that he wanted the ship.

“Think ya can hijack my ride, eh?” With a wicked laugh, the beastie turned his head towards the silent being, burning his yellow eyes into his makeshift armour. “Hate to break it to ya, but that’s _my_ ship. It won’t work for ya, soldier.”

The Deimos’ chest gave a curious flutter. This being was oblivious to his rank, his title, his reputation. No one in this realm dared to act disrespectful towards the Deimos, lest they face severe punishment for their arrogance. To have someone openly insult him and damn his existence was . . . refreshing. He was filled with giddy elation.

Deciding to push the being’s patience, the Deimos motioned for his assailant to step aside once more, refusing to back down against his words. He could see a crooked grin crawl across the feline’s features when he realized the reason for his persistence.

“Ah, so ya know about that rule, eh? Well, colour me surprised, muffle-man. I didn’t think any other beings knew about the oversight.” The beastie shook his head, then let out a thunderous laugh. “It’s not gonna happen. I’ll clock that stupid helmet off yer head before y’even have a chance to step foot on my vessel.” 

The Deimos tightened his hold on his weapon, feeling his vitals course through his body in response to the excitement he felt. He felt dizzy from the exhilaration. His fingers buzzed in anticipation for the first strike. This creature was hopelessly stupid, and yet it offered him some much needed amusement. He almost felt sorry for what he was going to do, but he knew better than to give into his passive heart.

After this final act, he would renounce his title as Deimos once and for all. He’d leave this treacherous world and let it crumble from the inside out, sentencing the corrupt society to burn in the flames of their sins. This realm was tainted beyond repair; there was no hope for anyone. The Deimos’ thought may have seemed cruel, even barbaric to those who lived outside their walls. In reality, he was only looking out for its citizens, offering a solution that freed them from their dismal existence. 

The Deimos refused to turn away from his fight. He refused to face the world he had condemned to death. _How ironic,_ he thought to himself. Even with his features covered, he had somehow managed to send everyone to their graves. 

He feared the same would happen in his new world.

With a heavy sigh, the Deimos adjusted his helmet into a comfortable position, reminding himself to keep it secure no matter what. Unfortunately, it was ill-fitted for him. It constantly dipped downwards and failed to stay in place; he'd have to make the proper adjustments once he was able to. Something practical for a being like him. Something to hide his cursed identity; a new look. A new being. An attire unlike the one he had been forced to wear for most his life. He saw an image flash through his mind, a quick design that held some promise—he thought it looked pretty cool.

Beaming in excitement, he readied himself for his first battle. Not as the Deimos, but as someone else. Someone new. He could feel the name dance across his tongue, inviting him to voice its long lost cadence, to call its rich syllables, and to feel the warmth it brought upon its utterance. 

How many years had it been since it was stolen from him? 

“Are ya just gonna stand there and collect dust, or are ya gonna fight?”

The beastie’s annoyed snarl brought him back to his senses. He cast a swift glance to the bristled creature, cracking a mischievous grin beneath his visor. He could tell this being was easy to rile up, so he indulged in his childish desires, flashing a crude gesture his way. The feline nearly hacked up a hairball at the disrespect he received. 

“Ya’ve got some nerve! Yer'e not even gonna say anythin’? Bah, so be it! I’ll take great pleasure in endin’ that insufferable life of yers!” The beastie tensed his body, digging his feet into the gritty sands and facing his opponent with a molten glare. “The name’s Meouch. Let that name drag ya to yer grave.”

They stared each other down, neither daring to make the first move. Then, the sound of two rogue engines exploded above them, signalling the start of their eagerly awaited battle.

The two beings charged forwards, wielding their weapons with an electrified craze, consumed by the delirium that coursed through their veins. Blood, both red and blue, slipped through the cracks of each new wound, seeping into the sands of the fallen realm. With each blow he endured, he could see the words form in his mind, tickling his throat with its feathery sting. 

He couldn’t say it, but his heart was screaming his name, begging for the cosmos to recognize him for what he truly was. He wasn’t a tool. He wasn’t a weapon. He wasn’t their prisoner any more. 

He was no longer the Deimos.

He watched his cuts weep, crying their dark blue tears in celebration for his reclaimed identity. These feelings, his emotions, the raw pain he was allowed to feel across his skin—it belonged to him.

It belonged to _him._

 _Phobos,_ he cried, his silent wails cradled by his broken voice. _My name is Phobos._

**• • • • •**

_Red Dahlia symbolizes an array of complex meanings. Finding inner strength, positive change, kindness, grace, and rising from the ashes. However, red dahlia may also symbolize betrayal, causing instability within one's fragile heart._

 __

_**• • • • •** _


	6. Ode to the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NOTE:** Contains major spoilers for **[The Stars are in his Eyes.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139636/chapters/58123336)** It is suggested that you read this _after_ completing the main story. Thanks!

**• • •**

“Jeez, why’d you have to pick such a cold place, Sung? At this rate, my core’s going to freeze over!”

Dressed in an assortment of thick layers, Avida wrestled with her frozen fingertips, rubbing them together in an attempt to regain their warmth. She puffed a cloud of air into her palms, shivering when the unwelcomed elements snuck their way into her coat. Sniffing in the frigid air, she cast a sideways glare at her companion, loathing the infuriating positivity he held for this realm. 

“It’s not so bad,” chuckled Sung, seeming unbothered by the chilly atmosphere. He wore a coat of his own, one that was lined with a thick layer of downy fur, its brown fabric reaching just past his knees. Despite the freezing temperatures, the man seemed quite at ease in the snowy landscape, adjusting his mittens with a nonchalant twist to his wrists. When a blustering gust of snow tore through the air, he didn’t even flinch, though he immediately noticed Avida’s shivering posture. 

“Ah, I keep forgetting that you’re not used to weather this extreme,” he mumbled nervously. Avida shot him a withering glare, causing him to recoil from her silent displeasure. “Right, sorry. I’ll get you some better gear.” Beneath his companion’s scowl, the doctor quickly ran for their ship, its yellow exterior dampened by a sheet of developing snow. 

Avida rolled her eyes, willing her body to ignore the trembles that rocked her form. She looked around their environment, seeing nothing but endless hills of white dust. If she squinted hard enough, it was possible to make out the faint outline of far off trees, but even their presence wasn’t safe from the overwhelming storm. The squall was getting worse with each passing second, the flakes nearly doubling in size since their landing an hour ago. This made visibility incredibly difficult in the desolate tundra. 

Both of her companion’s ships were covered in snow, prompting them to blend in with their surroundings. This unnerved her greatly. It seemed very easy for one to lose their bearings in this realm, housing the potential for an untimely death at the hands of nature’s frigid grasp. At the thought of this unwelcomed outcome, Avida shivered, both from the weather and her growing fears. 

“Everything alright, Avida?”

She looked towards the source of the voice, dragging her eyes across her robotic companion. He was unfazed by the biting chill, wearing nothing but the metal shell he was built with. Havve’s scarlet eyes tore through the pristine white, painting the snow with a ghastly red hue. It was hard for her to imagine his piercing glare getting drowned out by the storm.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Doing great,” Avida hissed, watching her breath billow through the air. She rubbed her hands together again, swiftly tucking them into her navy coat’s pockets for some sense of warmth. “Just a little cold, is all.”

Havve narrowed his eyes in concern. “I still think you should stay on the ship,” he cautioned. “This climate is much too stressful for your species. Besides, Sung and I shouldn’t be out here that long. You wouldn’t be alone for more than a few hours.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds like I’m a kid being left without a babysitter.” She managed a frosty snicker. “Nah, I kept pestering Sung to let me join you guys; I want to see this world for myself. I’m not going to hide away just because the weather is a little cold. I can hold my own just fine.” She gave a quick sniff, puffing herself into a confident posture.

“If you say so.” Havve’s voice held some skepticism. When he saw how much the snow battered her form, he stepped in front of the wind, shielding his companion from its unpleasant gusts. He reached for her coat and gently tugged the fur-lined hood around her face, bringing it outwards so that it covered her ears better. She voiced her thanks through an annoyed huff.

“What were you guys looking for? Ice?”

Havve nodded. “Yes. We need to restock my ship’s supply. The storage containers have begun to thaw. If we let our remaining ice melt, our food will easily spoil. We can usually make it a decade or so before we have to replenish our stock.”

“I see. Will any old ice do? I’m sure there’s plenty underneath the snow.”

“Unfortunately, no. We need a certain type, one that is dense and undisturbed. Snow is too weak, while pond ice is prone to breakage and melting. The stuff we’re looking for lies deeper underground.”

Avida’s eyes lit up. “Like in a cave? Sounds like an adventure to me.”

“Well, yes, in a way. But it’s not something you can afford to be casual about,” warned Havve. “There are plenty of hazards that one may encounter, be it steep inclines, accidental slips, losing your way, discovering hostile creatures. . . .”

“Havve’s right, you know.”

Avida jumped with a start when Sung suddenly appeared beside her. She hadn’t heard him approaching, nor had she seen him thanks to the sheet of snow that clung to his coat. She let out a long sigh, calming the fervent dance within her core. Once she recovered from her surprise, she noticed something in the doctor’s grasp. In his hands he held various winter accessories for her to wear.

“It might be dangerous for you to come along. I don’t want you getting hurt during this excursion,” Sung explained, his concerns blending in with the chilly draft. Then, he heaved a resigned sigh. “But I guess we have no choice. It’s impossible to change your mind once you’ve come to a decision.” He handed Avida the articles of clothing, passing her a pair of mittens and a matching woolly hat.

She gladly accepted the additions, wasting no time to adorn herself with their warmth. Although her fingers were still numb, the difference was like night and day. Even as she nestled her hands into the soft material, she could feel her senses coming back to life as they warded away the chilling evil of this realm. 

Already pleased with her extra clothing, it was a surprise when Sung wrapped his scarf around her shoulders. Oblivious to her questioning stare, he continued spinning the red fabric until it rested snugly on her form, hanging around her neck, shoulders, and swaying down her backside. While this gesture was strange, it was admittedly a huge improvement. Avida gave a relaxed hum, relishing in her immunity against the outside temperature.

“There we go. All better now?” chuckled Sung.

Avida managed a drowsy nod.

“Good. Since you insist on coming along, I figured I’d make you as comfortable as possible. We’ll be out here for a while.” Sung looked into the distance, seeing nothing but the persistent slate of snow. He clicked his tongue, casting his vision the other way. “Let’s try this path, Havve. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

The trio began their trudge across the icy lands, each of their gaits altered by the weight of the snowy dunes. Havve adapted easily, his long legs allowing him to traverse through the snow with minimal complications. The same could be said for Sung, the man using his past experience to navigate the unpredictable climate. The only one who struggled was Avida, much to her displeasure. 

She raised her legs high above the white sheets, forced to jump her way through the mounds with a spring to her step. She had managed well at first, but as time dragged on, she felt weariness grip her muscles, taunting her and her inability to keep up with her companions. They were still within her sights, but she could tell they were purposely slowing their pace. Heaving an irritated huff, Avida pushed through the snow with all her might, plowing a path across the vibrant particles with a gasping breath. 

Sung glanced backwards. “Need us to slow down?” he asked, stifling a smug smile. 

“Tsk, of course not!” scoffed Avida. She willed herself to advance, fueling the stubborn fires within her core. She kept her eyes forward, ignoring the scarlet glare she was receiving from Havve. Beneath his stare, she felt herself light up in embarrassment. “Hell, feel free to speed up.”

Sung looked at her quizzically, then shook his head with a chuckle. He motioned for Havve’s attention and gave him a series of silent commands. Havve gladly complied, quickly scooping Avida from the snow and onto his shoulders, keeping her steady despite her angry writhing. After a few moments of mumbles, grumbles, and sharp remarks, Avida begrudgingly accepted her new position as the robot’s passenger.

“I could have walked,” she muttered.

“And waste all your strength jumping through the hills like a deranged creature? Not a chance.” The doctor countered her rage with a jovial laugh. “Besides, you’ll need all your energy for the exploration. That’s where the real challenge begins.”

The group walked for an immeasurable amount of time, simply trudging in one direction with the hopes of finding their desired landmark: a cavern. Sung kept raving about the natural qualities of cave ice, claiming it to be the superior specimen when it came to refrigeration.

Despite her confusion and general disinterest in the topic, Avida listened anyways, knowing it made her chatty companion happy. The man was like a child, loudly spewing his interests without a filter. All she could do was listen intently, nodding her head and offering a few positive sound ques to feign her investment in the topic. 

After what felt like hours, the crew finally came across a snowed-in cavern. Wedged between a rocky bluff, the structure was partially submerged by a row of wispy snow banks, half of its entrance cut across by an undisturbed sheet. Its black maw jumped against the white background, making it easy to spot despite the raging storm. Thankful to be free of Sung’s monotonous rant, Avida hastily slid off Havve’s shoulders and ran towards the hollow, her renewed excitement carving a path towards the unknown dwelling.

She kicked the snowy wall and burst into the cave. Peering inside, she was amazed by the muffled quiet the hideaway possessed. Remaining mindful of the den, she carefully stepped into the dark environment, noticing how much warmer it was now that the wind wasn’t against her skin. She rubbed her mittens together while she waited for the others to join her. 

Havve was the first to venture into the cave.

“This seems acceptable,” he commented, sweeping his eyes across the untouched cavern. He scanned the environment for any sort of threat. When his sensors came up with nothing, he let himself relax.

“Hm. Unfortunately, I think we’ll have to go farther back,” said Sung, trudging behind his partner and shedding a layer of white powder from his coat. He motioned for his crew to follow his lead. “Let’s keep looking.”

Keeping their steps cautious, the group ventured deeper into the cavern. As they progressed, their light source gradually faded with the shadows, shrouding them in a chilly darkness. With Avida’s core covered by multiple thick layers, it was impossible for her light to guide them through the tunnel. Their only source of light came from Havve’s piercing gaze, his ruby vision washing over the perimeter of the glacial structure. Due to their specialized gear, both Sung and Havve faced no drawbacks to the lack of light, simply relying on the equipment they integrated into their daily lives.

When the shadows became too difficult to navigate, Avida was forced to rely on her species’ unique traits. She reached for her UV contacts and gently removed them from her eyes, blinking through a bout of irritated tears while she stored her borrowed technology. The effects were instantaneous. No longer damped by her correctors, she was free to take in the fascinating cavern.

The walls were lined with numerous sharp icicles, their jagged points hanging down from the ceiling like glass fangs. Nestled between each point lay a cluster of smaller icicles, their forms wavering with the slightest gust of wind, threatening to drop without a moment’s notice. Avida kept her eyes glued to the ceiling, a ribbon of unease winding its way through her obscured core. Fearing for her safety, she adjusted her hat and positioned her hood securely over her head, hoping it would be enough to soften a potential blow to the skull.

Pushing back her anxieties, she matched pace with her companions and took her spot beside them, feeling much more secure between the two beings. She slowly surveyed the cavern, taking note of the thin ice patches that littered the ground. Not wanting to make a fool of herself, she kept her footsteps light, willing her boots to keep their traction against the unpredictable surface. It would seem that Havve had the same idea. His steps were noticeably shorter, conscious of the fact that he could slip if he wasn’t careful.

Unfortunately, Sung never got the memo. True to his reckless character, he walked across an icy patch without much thought, his boots slipping from underneath as a result. His blunder sent him flying through the air, throwing him on his back with a wince-inducing crunch.

Avida rushed over with a panicked gasp, using the ice to quickly slide towards her groaning friend. When she began sliding, however, she realized she had accidentally put too much speed into her descent, unintentionally crashing into Sung with the force of a full-blown tackle. 

The two beings collided head on, smashing into the wall of the cavern without any buffer. Avida’s head spun in a disorienting waltz, causing her vision to double, even triple, as she tried to regain her lost breath. She could hear Sung’s pained hissing beside her, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying against the curious rumble the cavern emitted. Everything was an impossible blur. 

That’s when she felt the ice beneath them crack.

Avida’s core sunk. She reached for Sung and grabbed his coat, flinging her free arm towards an icy stalagmite. She palmed for the structure, desperately trying to wrap her fingers around it before they fell into the pit. Regrettably, she couldn’t keep her focus, her vision still plagued by the dizziness of her impact, impeding her ability to save the two of them from their fall.

With a frightened shriek, Avida’s world dissolved into a mixture of ice, snow, and clattering rocks, each of these elements pelting her relentlessly as she tumbled into the belly of the cavern, cut off from the harrowed screams of her robotic companion. With her trembling hands, she tightened her hold on Sung’s coat, refusing to lose him amongst the buried rubble.

**• • •**

Her head was pounding. It throbbed in protest, chastising her for recovering from her fainting spell. Avida let out a groan, mumbling a few curses to herself while she sluggishly surveyed her surroundings. She felt a pressure around her torso, the strange presence holding her in place. She slowly dragged her eyes over the sensation, gasping when she found herself partially submerged in a pile of ice and snow. Wiggling frantically, she managed to free herself from the mound, flinging her body down the hill with an ungraceful flip.

Once she was free from the debris, she quickly jumped to her feet, whipping her head around in a panic. Her surroundings were different than before. The walls were lined with turquoise ice, the glassy substance perfectly reflecting her tense form against its mirror-like surface. The cavern was cramped, her head nearly touching the rocky ceiling above. Looking further down the way, the tunnel didn’t appear to go anywhere, nor were there any points that indicated an escape route. 

She dragged her eyes upwards, grimacing at the steepness of the walls. She let out a defeated growl. It would be impossible for her to climb without the proper means. 

Avida inhaled a frigid breath, noticing the sharp sting that came from this air—it was terribly bitter, nearly numbing her lungs with its potent chill. Pushing her dread aside, she hastily looked around the pit and called for her companion. She breathed deeply and prepared to shout his name, ignoring the rasp that came from her frozen voice.

“Sung!” she hollered. She paused, twitching her ears as she listened for any sign of life. Unfortunately, she didn’t hear anything reassuring, just the echo of her words and an ominous rumble in the distance. She tried again, this time with more force. “Sung! Where are—”

Without warning, something grabbed her boot. Avida yelped in surprise and kicked the mysterious presence away, earning a pained squawk in return.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

Avida’s eyes went wide. She flicked her gaze towards the source of the voice, a wave of relief washing over her once she located her missing partner. She fell to the ground and crouched beside him, unable to contain her delight. “There you are!”

“Shh! Not so loud!” he whispered, placing a mitten above Avida’s mouth. The man was reclined against one of the icy walls, hunched in a ball to preserve his body heat. His one hand was currently used to silence his companion, the other was by his side, hanging uselessly against a pile of snow. When Avida saw this, she let out an alarmed squeak.

“Don’t,” warned Sung. He nodded his head upwards, calling attention to the distant rumble in the cavern. “It’s not stable. One wrong move, one wrong sound, and we might get buried beneath the ice.” Recognition flashed across Avida’s eyes. Pleased with her understanding, the doctor pulled his glove back to his shivering form.

“How far did we fall?” asked Avida, keeping her voice low. “Where’s Havve? How long have we been down here? And your arm—Stars alive, are you okay?”

The doctor managed a strained smile, keeping his voice steady despite his injury. “I’m fine, it’s nothing major. Probably just a sprain or something.” 

Avida could tell he was lying. If not for the tightness in his voice, then the waves of anguish that rolled off his form were enough to signal that he wasn’t being honest. She narrowed her eyes, carefully reaching for her companion’s injury.

Sung tried to protest, but was swiftly silenced by Avida’s sharp tongue. “Let me see.”

Begrudgingly, the doctor allowed her to survey the damages for herself, turning away in order to hide his twisted grimace. Avida gently took his arm into her lap, cringing at the way he gasped at the slightest movement. Gritting her teeth, she rolled back his sleeve in order to assess his wound. With one single glance, she could tell it was broken.

“It’s probably a small fracture,” Sung whispered. His voice was noticeably shrill now. As he spoke, he bit his lip to distract himself from the pain. “Nothing serious. You don’t have to worry, Avida.”

“Bullshit. Your arm is broken, idiot. I know a break when I see one.” Avida let out a slew of frustrated curses. “Did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice? You’re the one who trained me on the basics, doc. I can see through your lies in an instant.”

Sung gave an amused scoff. “Oh _great._ You know, I think I’m starting to regret sharing my practice with you.”

“Just shut up and give me your arm.”

Avida worked away in silence, trying her best to secure her partner’s injury. It was difficult to secure without a proper splint and required her to do some quick thinking. Since their environment was too cold to withstand, she couldn’t keep his arm exposed to the frigid air for long. Instead, she was forced to stabilize the injury as best she could from the outside, using what little resources she had at her disposal. 

“Damn it, you won’t be able to pilot the ship for a few weeks,” she mumbled quietly.

“Guess it’ll be up to you to fly us around for a while,” Sung said, offering a sheepish shrug.

Avida scowled at the idea. “Ugh, you know I hate controlling that thing! I’d much prefer my job on the sidelines. Keeping everything in order is way less stressful than physically flying the ship.”

“Perks of being the co-pilot, Avida. You get to take over when the captain is incapacitated.” Sensing her discomfort, the doctor offered his reassurance. “I’ll be there to help you and offer some advice. Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”

Her frown didn't disappear. “Hmph, you’re lucky to have me as your guardian, cone head. You’d be a hopeless mess if I wasn’t here.”

Unravelling the scarf from her shoulders, she carefully wound it around her partner’s sleeve, applied an adequate amount of pressure, and tied the scarf into a tight knot. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was better than nothing. This way, he wouldn’t be able to bend his arm, sparing him from the pains of accidental movements.

“This’ll do for now,” she hummed. “We should focus our attention on getting out of this trench. Is Havve still above us?”

The doctor shook his head. “No, I told him to head back to the ship. We need something that’ll reach us without disturbing the walls. He wanted to come down and grab us himself, but the possibility of causing a cave-in was too great.” Sung looked towards the ceiling and followed the narrow passage they had fallen from. It was too steep for either of them to climb. It was also coated in ice, virtually impossible to scale without the proper tech. 

For now, they were hopelessly trapped. 

“Quite the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into, eh?” Avida said, her anger having subsided for the time being. She wiggled herself beside her companion, bringing her knees close to her chest with a frosty sigh. The low temperatures were beginning to nip at her skin, nestling their way through her body and causing a series of rolling shudders. Her teeth clattered loudly, much to her embarrassment. Thankfully, her rosy blush encouraged a wave of heat to travel to her face, banishing the cold for a few merciful minutes. 

“This is all my fault,” Sung grumbled. “If I wasn’t acting so careless, we wouldn’t be in this position.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” teased Avida. She meant it in a light-hearted way, but after hearing her words, she could sense a significant drop in Sung’s mood, his overwhelming remorse weighing on her core. She tried to salvage the conversation. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m the one who sent us flying into the pit. If I hadn’t crashed into you, we wouldn’t be sitting here like a couple of self-pitying schmucks.”

“But I’m the one who slipped on the ice in the first place.”

“Then it’s the ice’s fault for being on the ground!” She giggled, acknowledging the ridiculousness of their situation. “See, we could pin the blame on everything until we’re a pile of bones. What’s done is done. We can’t lament on the ‘what-ifs’—it’s pointless. We just need to push forwards and focus on the future.”

“How optimistic of you,” mused Sung. “Alright, what are you thinking about now? If not our present circumstances, then what of the future?”

Avida juggled his question for a few moments. Then, she smiled softly. “Somewhere out there is a place, one that is light-years from this planet. Where the weather is nice, where the flowers are just starting to bloom; where the stars shine high above our heads.”

“Sounds pretty nice . . .” Sung shifted in place, trying to adjust his arm into a comfortable position. With his scarf wrapped firmly around his injury, he was no longer burdened by the cold, though he couldn’t say the same for Avida. The poor woman was shivering like a leaf. For now, all they could do was talk through the chill as a way to distract themselves. “Tell me more about this place.”

“It’s always warm,” she continued, “and full of vibrant life. Every inch of the planet is a treasure trove, coated in the delicate flutter of stardust. It fills the crystal lakes, dusts the rocky coves, and clings to your body like a welcomed embrace. The place I’m thinking of is beautiful—it’s home to those I cherish within my core.

“I see it now, Sung. When we bring back the stars, they’ll dance across the sky. They’ll sing for us. They’ll shine brighter than the suns of this realm.” A dewy shine enveloped her eyes. Lost in thought, Avida continued, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll bring you there. Both you and Havve will be welcomed beneath their presence. Moebius isn’t just my home, it’s yours as well. In the future, you’ll see what I mean.”

“That’s a nice thought,” said Sung. He glanced at his partner, his heart giving a hopeful squeeze at the words she spoke. “I guess that means we’ll be introduced to your child. The fabled little Strive.”

Avida nodded, unable to hide her anticipatory grin. “I wonder how he’ll react,” she mused, stifling a joyous laugh between her words. “Stars alive, I imagine he’ll be hesitant at first. He’ll probably hide behind me, terrified of the hogans his mama brought to his home.” She paused, her smile faltering. “No, he’ll be older when we meet again. He probably doesn’t need my protection any more. I wonder if he still remembers me. I wonder . . . if he came to resent me.” 

What was once a remedy soon became a poison, their fond conversation taking a turn for the worse.

Sung reached out for his companion and offered a comforting pat on her shoulder. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m confident that he hasn’t forgotten about you. As for hating you, I think that’s pretty impossible. By the way you’ve described him, he sounds an awful lot like you. If anything, I think he understands you the most.”

“You say that, but it’s always in the back of my mind. I think about my choices, and my decision to leave Moebius. Was it selfish of me to leave him? Was it foolish? A hopeless dream that I could never achieve? If I never left, could I have—”

“Ah, that’s enough out of you.” Sung motioned for her to stop talking, shaking his head with a series of light-hearted tuts. “Not so different, you and I, wrestling with the ‘what-ifs’ and mulling over the past. It’s just like you said: what’s done is done. There’s no point in obsessing over what could have happened if you did something different. The present is all that matters. Hell, the future is just as important, especially one as bright as the one you’re fighting for.”

“I know that, Sung. But it’s just—”

“Think of it this way—everything you’ve done up to this point has given hope to the cosmos. If you didn’t try to clear your planet’s stratosphere, you’d still be stuck on your planet, destined to wither away without a cure. You never would’ve encountered Havve and I. Without you, we’d still be a pair of useless immortals drifting through our existence. Because you were willing to fight for your cause, you’ve paved the path towards a better fate, one that promises the return of the stars. The revival of your people—a world for your treasured son—that’s what you’re fighting for. What _we’re_ fighting for.”

Avida gave a withered laugh, her mood having improved slightly. “Damn it, I hate when you make sense. Makes me feel like an emotional dunce when I regain my composure.” She heaved a long sigh, looking over at Sung with a small smile. “I guess I should be thanking you. Without your willingness to help, I’d be facing this battle alone. Scratch that, I’d be dead without you guys. I’ve come to enjoy my time with the two of you.” She shook her head in amusement. “Quite the strange trio we make, eh?”

“Is that what we’re called? The ‘strange trio’?” Sung guffawed, only to choke when he accidentally laughed too hard, twitching his arm involuntarily. He grimaced, but continued to laugh through the pain, his merriment much too great to suppress. “C’mon, we need a better name than that. Something catchy; a name that brings hope to the cosmos. We’ve been at this for five years now. Surely we can think of a fitting title.”

“A name?” Avida asked. The idea was foreign to the woman, having never crossed her mind until their chilly conversation. 

“Yeah, something that serves as a light in the darkness.” Sung glanced at his companion and beamed with pride. “We could name it after you, You're the one who started this movement in the first place. It’s only right for you to get all the credit.”

Her? The namesake of their cause? Something about that didn’t sit right in her core. She wasn’t interested in claiming glory, nor flaunting her success through a narcissistic title. She wasn’t doing this for herself, she was doing it for him. Her precious Starlight.

“Starlight . . .” she whispered. She looked at Sung with a brilliant twinkle in her eyes, her mouth quietly moving between each treasured syllable. “What about the ‘Starlight Brigade’?”

“Starlight Brigade, huh?” Sung nodded his head thoughtfully. “It’s got a nice ring to it, but why ‘brigade’? We’re only a small team. We don’t have an army to back us up.”

“Not yet, but we will someday. Once the cosmos knows of our existence, it’ll inspire others to join the battle as a collective force, one with enough strength to free the stars from the Void’s grasp. We’ll all be fighting for our shared cause. Together, we’ll fight for the stars and bring them back to my son. This will be the Starlight Brigade’s purpose—we’ll fight in his name. For my Strive, we’ll fight until our dying breaths.”

Sung let out a low whistle of admiration. “Wow, that kid of yours is going to have an entire army dedicated to him, and he’ll have no idea of its existence.” He was quiet for a few moments. Then, he spoke with a comforting drawl. “You keep worrying that he resents you, fearing his rejection once you return to Moebius—I don’t think it’s possible. I believe your child is still rooting for you, patiently waiting for you and the stars to return. When he learns of the Starlight Brigade, I think he’ll realize how much you cherish him.”

“You think so?” Avida asked, a wobbly grin making its way across her lips. 

As she spoke, the sound of a rope swivelling down the side of the wall caught the duo’s attention. The doctor felt his heart soar, relieved for the chance to continue their adventure past this dingy cavern. At the thought of continuing his journey with his companions, he couldn’t deny the flutter within his chest. 

Even when it seemed impossible, there was always a way to rise against the odds. Together with his team—with the Starlight Brigade—they would bring that spark back to the cosmos. For the world, for Avida, for her precious Starlight. This much was certain to the doctor. 

“I know so,” he answered, both to himself and the incredible being by his side.

**• • •**

While the mission hadn’t gone the way they expected, it was still a successful excursion, their precious ice having been secured before they left the cavern, each block lugged away by Havve’s burdenless arms. Now, their coolers would be stocked for a decade or so before they needed to replenish their supplies. In addition to having ice for their freezers, they now had a useful asset to their medical supplies, a portion of the ice going towards healing the wound Sung had the joy of enduring for the next few weeks.

After trudging through the snow a second time, Avida was thankful to be within the comforts of Sung’s warm ship again. When she entered the vessel, she wasted no time preparing the seat beside the captain’s chair, making it a comfortable spot for the doctor to rest. With antsy steps, she led her friend towards the chair and left to get the proper supplies, muttering a few concerned quips along the way. 

“Keep your arm elevated,” she called from the back of the ship, meandering through piles of junk and memorabilia the doctor had collected over the years. She pushed through the mess, searching for splints and other materials for her to use.

“I know, I know,” mumbled Sung, his face beginning to turn red from his embarrassment. When Avida came back with the wraps, the doctor blushed more, a sheepish burn spreading across his features. “I should be the one doing this, not you. Stars, this is humiliating.”

“What? You think I’m going to botch the job?” She chuckled at Sung’s panicked expression, quickly assuring him that she wasn’t offended. “Relax, I know what you meant. Unfortunately, you can’t do a good job with one hand. Just be quiet and suck it up, alright, doc?”

The doctor mumbled something under his breath, turning away while his companion went to work on his injured arm. Pleased with his compliance, Avida carefully prepared the injury with her supplies, securing the limb into a comfortable position with a splint and patching it with cotton, wrapping a generous amount of cloth around the appendage. After observing the injury more thoroughly, she found that the break wasn’t as bad as she had initially thought. There was no need for her to slave over the creation of a cast—what a lucky bastard he was. 

When she was close to finishing, she invited Sung to critic her work. 

The man beamed with pride, astonished by her sound results. “Damn, that’s impressive. I must’ve been a good teacher when I taught you the basics. It’s nearly identical to my own method!”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m not quite done yet.” To her side, she retrieved the red scarf that had been wrapped around the initial injury, unceremoniously swinging it around Sung’s neck. She pulled the fabric taut, placing his splint into a sling while she tied the scarf into a knot, letting it hang across the man’s shoulders. Content with her treatment, he took her seat in the captain's chair, ignoring the babbled praise Sung sent forth. 

With an uneasy sigh, Avida sunk into the rigid chair, feeling way out of her element. She dragged her eyes across the numerous controls, conscious of what each of them did, but nervous to fire them up, fearing she would somehow forget their purpose mid-flight. She hovered her hands over the ignition, only to pull back when her doubts spoke above her logic. 

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I hate piloting this stupid thing.”

“Aw, c’mon. You do fine! If it’s too much trouble for you, I’ll just sneak on over and—”

“Nope, not a chance,” Avida snapped, blocking the man’s attempts at taking control during his injured state. “You’re under my watch now, doc. There’ll be none of your dumb shenanigans while I’m here, so you might as well quit while you’re ahead.”

Sung mumbled something under his breath, his words perfectly understood thanks to Avida’s keen hearing.

“Tsk, I can’t believe I’m being mothered by you . . .”

Avida cackled at his pouty tone, amazed by the immaturity this immortal being possessed. Age hadn’t made him wiser. It made him brattier. 

“Get used to it, my friend. It’s going to be like this for a few weeks, so you might as well enjoy the ride!” A renewed sense of confidence flowed through her core, its azure light sparking through bouts of her giddy excitement. The urge to pester her companion helped her feel at ease when faced with her daunting role as captain. Leaving her hesitancy behind, she readied herself for take off, offering a smug smirk to the cranky passenger by her side. 

“Quit your frowning, doc. The Starlight Brigade has no place for that.” She grinned happily, inviting their new title to dance across her tongue. She noticed Sung’s scowl disappear, replaced by a small smile instead. Seeing this, Avida broke out into a joyous laugh, filling the ship with her sonorous cheer and breathtaking light. 

“What a bizarre pair of guardians we turned out to be!” she sputtered between each laugh, pulling her companion into the same delightful craze.

**• • • • •**

_Pentrawrens symbolize wisdom, curiosity, hope, valour, and bountiful love. Known for their resilience against adversaries, these blooms hold onto the prospect of a beautiful future, offering reassurance in the darkest of times. To be given a bouquet of pentawrens is to hold the cosmos in your palms, a sign of one's dedication and infinite adoration._

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**• • • • •**

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End file.
